


The Thief with the Shining Eyes

by AfricanDaisy



Series: The Iathrim Chronicles [7]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adoption, Backstory, Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Family, Greenwood, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Original Character(s), Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Rehabilitation, Second Age, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2020-06-09 22:04:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 77,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19484938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AfricanDaisy/pseuds/AfricanDaisy
Summary: This is the story of one young elf's journey; the friends he makes, the lessons he learns, the family he gains, as he tries to find his place in a world that has never loved him.





	1. Into the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> While I was writing a previous story called Hope Beyond Reason, people asked about an OC called Lutha and expressed an interest in his back story. As this story is set some time before Oropher comes to the Greenwood with his people, it is mostly OC-centric but the characters involved do have links to canon characters, and canon characters may appear as the chapters progress. Please note also that the story contains references to past physical and sexual abuse of a child, as well as detailed scenes of spanking as a form of discipline.

He was a clever thief, the boy with the glossy black hair and the charcoal grey eyes ringed with lashes so long and dark that almost it looked like he was wearing kohl as courtesans of the eastern lands did. Yes, a very clever thief. He had to be, to survive. The humans who had raised him had told him so…they, and their children, and their children’s children. Such short lives had Lutha’s caretakers led before disease and old age had struck them down, while he had thrived, looking forever as though he had seen just sixteen summers. But he had seen more than that.

Lutha had dwelt among the mortal men for all of his sixty-eight years. Perhaps he had lived a day or two before the humans, but then they had rescued him from the parents who hadn’t wanted him. A stocky woman of middling years, grey before her time, had become his mother. He still missed Mama Bera even though she had died over forty years back. He missed Fynn too; Fynn had been hanged twenty years ago after being caught stealing horses. Even though Fynn had married into the family from outside, he had still been a better brother to Lutha than any of Mama Bera’s other children had. Well, Thora and Niklas had been all right, even if Thora had liked to pinch Lutha’s pointed ears and Niklas had been too free with the back of his hand. But Aerik, Runa, Kori, and Svala had been cruel to their mother’s adopted son. Aerik hadn’t been the worst. That had been pretty Svala. But then the Father of the Clan had died, leaving Aerik to take over, and power had turned Aerik into the worst. It didn’t matter now anyway. Lutha’s people were finally gone. They had been routed, driven off and killed by a stronger tribe. Lutha’s only choice had been to run.

So run, he did.

He ran for hours that turned into days.

After a journey that had lasted weeks and taken him from the hot and dusty lands in the south up through green and verdant plains, Lutha found himself under the cover of a great forest, searching for he didn’t know what. He had come to the edges of the forest when the Clan’s travels had brought them that way, but he had never been allowed to venture over the border. That had been a job for the men and a few women who were trusted with the important jobs. Lutha had been forced to stay behind and tend the campfires, teach the smaller children how to sneak and steal, and just stay out of everyone else’s way. He had always resented that. Father Thorir, Father Aerik, and Aerik’s eldest son and heir who had become Father Vali for a short time before the Clan had been slaughtered, had never been shy about using Lutha in whatever way had most benefited them. He had been one of their cleverest and fastest thieves, after all, and certainly their most beautiful. Lutha had never understood why they had kept him away from the trees. He hoped that wherever they were now they could see him walking boldly through the forest without a care in the world. Well, a few cares, but that was to be expected.

A day into his trek through the forest, Lutha came across a signpost with markers pointing in different directions. It didn’t matter what language the words on them were written in because although Lutha could speak a few languages, he couldn’t read a word in any. But he noticed that each marker had a picture cleverly carved into the wood. On the marker pointing straight ahead was a waterfall. Pointing left was what looked like an inn with a sign blowing in the wind. Below that and pointing in the same direction was another marker but longer, with an important looking building carved into it. That was probably some sort of governmental place. Maybe a courthouse or some such thing, Lutha thought distastefully.

“We’ll avoid that,” he said to a bird watching him from a perch in a nearby tree.

The bird just chirped sagely.

Moving his pack – which was actually just a cloak that he had stolen and fashioned into a makeshift sack – from one shoulder to the other, Lutha headed west towards the inn. He stopped along the way to drink from a clear stream flowing steadily over polished black rocks, but he found the water so pure and sweet that he nearly spat it out. After sitting back on his heels and looking at it suspiciously for a minute, he decided to try again. That time he was ready for it, and he drank and drank until his thirst was quenched. Finally, Lutha looked around and left his makeshift sack in the bole of a tree. Bad enough that his tunic was ripped and he had a fading bruise on his cheek that nobody would mistake for dirt. He didn’t want to attract any more attention than was absolutely necessary. He would return for the sack and its contents later.

As he continued his journey, Lutha began to pass dwellings. Some were small cottages with pretty little gardens and attractive thatched roofs. Others were larger and more solidly built houses of pale stone or bricks. Many of them had outbuildings – stables, barns, and workshops, and there were even a few with their own watermills. Lutha laughed in delight and relief. He had walked for miles through the forest without seeing a single living soul that wasn’t a woodland creature, yet here were all these homes just waiting for a clever thief to sneak in and take clean clothes and fresh food. Perhaps the forest wouldn’t be such a bad place to stay for a while.

The further that Lutha walked along the smoothly paved road, the more people he started to see. It didn’t take him long to reach the startling conclusion that they were not humans. They were like him, he realised, his stomach lurching unpleasantly. They had the same silken hair in every shade that he could think of, and like his skin theirs was free from blemish and wrinkle. They even had the same pointed ears – ears that Lutha had spent his life hating and trying to hide under his hair, because it had always upset him more than he had let on when humans had pulled them and called him a freak.

“Elves,” Lutha whispered in wonder. This was why the Fathers of the Clan had stopped him from entering the forest, he thought with a jolt. They hadn’t wanted him to see his own kind. Or was it that they hadn’t wanted his own kind to see him? What had they known? What if, for all their violence and cruelty, they had been trying to protect one of the Clan’s most precious commodities? Because the truth was that Lutha knew very little about his own people. He had heard humans speak of elves in awe, in fear, in contempt, in reverence, but all that had ever told him was that they were a mystery to be unravelled. He had never managed to unravel it. Not for lack of trying, but because asking his family questions about elves had usually only earned him a kick in the ribs or a fist that he’d had to dodge. Elves could be the most dangerous creatures in Middle-earth, and Lutha had just walked straight into their territory.

So caught up was the young thief in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the hustle and bustle up ahead that came with a large town. He didn’t notice the cart that passed him laden down with barrels of fruit, nor that the three young ellith who had just come from the opposite direction were carrying baskets full with goods from market. Only when Lutha was standing in the middle of it all did he come back to himself and look around with wide eyes. The signpost hadn’t directed him to a wayfarer’s inn by the roadside. It had taken him to a town with not one inn but three, a marketplace with fifty different stalls, shops all around, and eating establishments and a banking house, and somewhere to see a healer and everything else that one could imagine. In the centre of it all was a three tier fountain, the burbling of its water not quite drowned out by a puppet show going on just next to it.

Lutha tried to take in all the sights, smells, and sounds of a new place, but there were so many that he didn’t know where to look. This wasn’t like some of the towns that he had been in. It was clean and pretty, with a sense of safety and…and what else? It took Lutha a moment to realise. _Familiarity._ The elleth with elflings clinging to her skirt as she argued with a tall baker about the price of his bread was familiar. The cheerful looking ellon sweeping pale brown hair out of his face as he called for people to come and look at his strawberries was familiar. Oh, there was great beauty to be seen everywhere that Lutha looked, but other than that it was just normal. It was a scene that he had witnessed many times before, and that put him at ease.

Wandering about and cleverly putting his fingers to good use whenever he got a chance, Lutha watched the elves from under his lashes as they went about their business. Some of them looked well to do in silks and brocade, which made him think that they might be merchants or financiers, maybe even nobles. Many others were dressed more simply in hunting leathers, nice woollen dresses, and tunics with leggings that were plain but more finely woven than his own ragged clothes. There was nobody dressed like him, which stung Lutha’s pride, but he could fix that. He had stolen and consumed one jam tart and two red apples, and that was enough to keep him going for the rest of the day. Now he needed to think about new clothes, and maybe coins that he could exchange for a night at the inn so that he could have a bath and sleep in a real bed.

As Lutha tried to remember the last time that he had slept in a bed, he noticed his first target. Slender and delicate, Lutha would have guessed that the elleth was twenty if she had been a mortal woman. But he knew better. One of the things that he did know about his own kind was that they lived forever, but he had no idea how one put an age on an immortal being. The elleth’s hair rippling down her back reminded Lutha of watered silk. It wasn’t quite white, but it was a silver-blonde so pale that it was only a shade or two away from white. Everyone that Lutha had seen in the forest had been beautiful, but this elleth in a diaphanous gown of periwinkle to match her eyes was radiant and her smile was kind. It almost made Lutha feel bad about what he was going to do. _Almost._

Putting himself into the path of an unsuspecting victim was a trick that Lutha had perfected and performed many a time. As he wandered in front of the silver haired elleth and collided with her, his arm knocked her almost full wicker basket from her elbow. She didn’t stumble and in fact barely lost her balance, but the basket dropped to the floor. Packages spilled out, making the elleth groan softly in dismay.

“I’m so sorry!” Lutha exclaimed, kneeling next to his victim and helping her to gather up her purchases. One of them cleverly made its way up his sleeve. “That was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention. You’re not hurt, are you?”

“I am not hurt, elfling. But you will return that parcel to me at once,” the elleth said sternly, her pretty eyes narrowing. “I doubt that you are sorry at all if you are willing to steal from me.”

“It was an accident,” Lutha gasped.

The elleth wrapped the fingers of one slender hand around Lutha’s wrist in a firm though not cruel grip. Her free hand went up his sleeve and plucked the parcel out. “This was an accident?”

“Oh, fine.” Lutha knew when he was caught. “You’ve got it back. Let me go.”

“Let you go? No, I think not. Thieves do not have free rein in this forest,” the elleth replied.

Lutha’s victim-turned-captor put the small parcel back into her basket and stood up, hauling her prisoner to his feet as well. She started to look around, and Lutha recognised the way that her head was moving, her eyes scanning the crowds. She was searching for guards. “Don’t do that,” he protested. “You don’t have to call anyone.”

“Yes, I do,” the elleth said calmly. “You will be put under house arrest until you can stand trial before Elder Faelind.”

Only three words penetrated Lutha’s consciousness. _House arrest_ and _trial._ “Look, I’m sorry,” he said quickly.

“You are not sorry, elfling.”

Of course Lutha wasn’t at all sorry but the elleth didn’t need to know that. He glared at her for a moment before dropping his gaze. He had to work fast, before the guards came. “You don’t have to do this,” he said, glancing back up through his lashes. “We can work it out ourselves. Just you and me.”

“And what is _that_ supposed to mean?” the elleth asked incredulously.

Lutha was offended but he tried not to let it show. “Whatever you like.”

The disbelief on the elleth’s heart shaped face was replaced by something that Lutha couldn’t quite identify. She almost looked sad, though he didn’t know why she had any reason for it. “Are you trying to seduce me?” she asked softly. “You, a child?”

Surely she couldn’t be sad because he had tried to offer himself to her, Lutha thought, feeling thoroughly confused. As far as getting out of trouble went, his body was one of his most useful tools. It was true that men had always been easier to seduce than women. Many of them had never cared how old he was. Women seemed to care more about that sort of thing, which Lutha didn’t understand. He wasn’t sure what difference his age made. A body was just a body, after all. He drew a breath to reply to the elleth even though he wasn’t sure what to say, but someone else filled the silence for him.

“Nithaniel? Are you all right?”

The elleth let her gaze linger on Lutha for a moment longer before she turned to look at the one who had spoken. Standing a short distance away were two ellyn. The taller of the two had hair the colour of honey, and he was staring suspiciously at Lutha through eyes like forget-me-nots. The other ellon was shorter though still a head above Lutha, and he looked so much like the elleth – Nithaniel, Lutha corrected – with the same silver-white hair and just slightly darker blue eyes that they could have been twins. There was no suspicion in his gaze as he looked at Lutha, mostly just earnest curiosity tempered with a touch of wariness.

“I am well, Carthalon,” Nithaniel replied. “But I won’t have time now to go home before my meeting on the hill.”

“Can we help with anything?” the smaller of the ellyn asked hopefully.

“Take this home for me, sweetling,” Nithaniel said, holding her basket out. “My coin purse is in there. Buy yourselves lunch at the inn. My treat.”

Carthalon gave Lutha a final suspicious stare, and the smaller ellon – who Lutha assumed wasn’t actually called _sweetling_ – offered him a tentative smile. Lutha just glared at the two of them. He couldn’t help but be jealous that they were going to get a meal at the inn. He watched Carthalon put a hand on the other ellon’s shoulder and pull him away, and as they disappeared into the busyness of the market, Lutha looked darkly at Nithaniel.

“My little brothers,” she said, by way of explanation.

Lutha decided that he didn’t care. “I thought that you were going to summon the guards.”

“I had intended to,” Nithaniel said, but now there was a touch of uncertainty in her voice.

There was only one thing for it. Lutha took advantage of Nithaniel’s hesitation to wrench his arm out of her grip. He turned on his heel and made a run for it, weaving through the stalls and the elves going about their day as he made a beeline for the fountain. He would get back on the road that he had followed earlier and put the town well behind him. But as he darted around the fountain, he collided with an elf coming from the opposite direction. The elf blocking his path remained upright, but the collision made Lutha stumble backwards and fall on his bottom.

“You should look where you’re going!” he shouted tearfully, as a russet haired ellon dressed in hunting leathers pulled him to his feet.

“So should you,” the ellon said mildly, closing his hands around Lutha’s wrists. “I saw you running from Elder Nithaniel, little one. What had you done to her?”

“She didn’t even tell me that’s her name, so you ought to talk to her about manners,” Lutha snapped. He tried to pull his hands free but he was well and truly trapped. “And I’m not little,” he added in flustered frustration. “Do I look little? Like a child? _Stupid.”_

“You certainly act like a child,” the ellon replied. “Nithaniel, what happened?”

Nithaniel had walked serenely around the fountain, and she gave Lutha a disapproving look. “The elfling collided with me as I walked through the market, and stole the gift that I had bought Elder Galawen for her Begetting Day. As for names, elfling, you did not give me yours either,” she remarked. “But yes, I am Elder Nithaniel. My purview is the youth of the forest. I know that you are indeed an elfling, certainly no more than halfway to your first _yen_ and surely less than that.”

“Stop saying things about me! You don’t know anything,” Lutha said angrily. “Let me go and I’ll leave. I don’t like your forest anyway.”

“No. Introductions seem to be important to you, so hear this. I am Elder Feredir, hunter and forester,” the ellon said, taking a length of cord from his belt and tying Lutha’s wrists together firmly though not tightly enough to hurt. “I will not allow you to wander this wood alone, especially not having been caught in the act of thievery. You will be brought before Elder Faelind and judged.”

“I hope you get eaten by a bear,” Lutha spat.

“Oh, I doubt it,” Feredir said calmly, giving the cord a light tug and starting to lead his prisoner out of town.

“I don’t,” Lutha retorted. “A really big, hairy, angry bear.”

“You are more likely to end up with a soundly spanked bottom than I am to end up eaten by a bear,” Feredir remarked.

Nithaniel laughed under her breath as she walked alongside the ellyn, though she didn’t sound wholly unsympathetic to the young thief. “Go away,” Lutha growled, baring his teeth. “Or maybe _I’ll_ bite you.”

That made Feredir snort softly in dry amusement. “No, elfling.”

“Yes, elfling,” Lutha said mutinously.

Without pausing in his stride, Feredir landed an unerringly precise swat to Lutha’s bottom. “You don’t backchat your elders, little one. You don’t bite or even threaten to bite.”

Lutha glared at the hunter but he said nothing more as the road that they were following began to lead them gently uphill. It wasn’t entirely straight. Here and there it curved slightly, and in a couple of places it went back on itself in a serpentine sort of way. When it did that there were steps carved into the hill to save time for those on foot. Although the road was wide enough for two large carts to easily pass each other, the only other living soul that Lutha saw was a rabbit that sat up and watched the three elves as they passed. Lutha tugged angrily at the cord that Feredir was holding, envying the animal’s freedom. He had never been jealous of a rabbit before.

The thick trees that covered the hillside had made it impossible for Lutha to see where exactly he was being taken. But, as they reached the top of the hill and the land flattened out, he saw a pair of great wrought iron gates flung open in a wall of pale stone that snaked around the summit. Both the gates and the wall were so high that Lutha thought even the tallest person would have to jump to reach the top. An elleth and an ellon in identical uniforms stood at the gates, black leather boots laced to just below their knees under leggings so dark a grey that they were almost black. The hem of their open-collared tunics of forest green brushed their lower thighs, and under it they wore olive green shirts with fitted sleeves beneath brown leather vambraces wrapped around their wrists. Both warriors carried a sword at their waist and curved daggers.

Lutha could only spare them a passing glance because it was what lay behind them that truly caught his attention. Up ahead stood the grandest and most beautiful building that he had ever seen, all stone and white marble glistening in the summer sun with towers that must surely see out across the entire forest. It wasn’t a house. It wasn’t even a mansion. Lutha had seen mansions before. He had even been inside mansions when he had seduced the local lord or a wealthy magistrate to avoid prison, but this put even those great dwellings to shame. He thought that a dozen mansions must be able to fit into this building, and that was only what he could see of it from the front.

Wide-eyed, he let himself be led down a long courtyard vibrant with lush swards of grass and cherry blossom trees in full bloom, past a white fountain three times as large as the one that he had seen in town. A dozen steps led up to a wide portico supported by pillars of marble, where two guards stood on duty at the arched entrance in front of open doors again taller than Lutha had ever seen before. Beyond them, the vast entrance hall was lit with natural light and dominated by a statue of a leaping stag, but from there Lutha stopped taking anything in. It was a blur of marble floors, curved staircases, elegantly carved bannisters of polished wood, beautiful tapestries, and a delicate floral scent so sweet that he felt like he wanted to breathe it in forever.

Even if Lutha had been able to break free he wouldn’t have been able to find his way out of the building again; he hadn’t had the presence of mind to pay any attention to the way that he was being led. Suddenly, he realised that they had stopped. He looked around and saw that Nithaniel and Feredir had brought him to an oval-shaped antechamber where two ellyn in the uniform of the guards were stood. Just past them was a mahogany door with a golden oak tree inlaid into the wood.

“Protector Amathlogon, Protector Níndir, kindly take charge of this child whilst we inform the Elders of his presence,” Nithaniel was saying.

The ellyn bowed their heads in deference, and the auburn haired one called Níndir took Lutha while his more solidly built colleague towered over the boy. “Your name, elfling,” Amathlogon demanded, staring at Lutha with cool grey eyes as the two Elders went through the mahogany door.

“Elfling,” Lutha said, calmly meeting the warrior’s gaze. “Seeing as everyone keeps calling me that.”

Amathlogon stepped to the side and gave Lutha a single hard smack on his bottom as Níndir held the elfling still. Lutha couldn’t help the startled cry that escaped, though he did his best to stifle it as he glared at the Protectors with unshed tears in his eyes. The force of the swat had told him that Amathlogon was capable of delivering a punishment that would set his backside to burning for hours if he dared sass him again.

“Whatever it is that you have done, elfling, you’ll answer for it and it will be over,” Níndir said calmly. “And we wouldn’t be calling you _elfling_ if you had provided a name to be called by. You know our names.”

“Not by choice. I didn’t ask to know them. You don’t need my name,” Lutha replied. “I’m leaving as soon as this is over.”

“I very much doubt that,” Amathlogon said.

“I very much doubt you,” Lutha muttered.

Níndir put his hands on Lutha’s shoulders and held him still as Amathlogon gave him another hard smack. “You really shouldn’t be rude,” Níndir said. “What is it that the Elders are trying you for, anyway?”

“Mind your own business,” Lutha said miserably. “Or you could untie me and I’ll show you.”

Barking a laugh, Amathlogon folded his arms over his broad chest. “Do you take us for fools?”

“I can answer that if you really want me to,” Lutha replied.

“Sass him again and he’ll heat your bottom for you before you’ve even gone to trial,” Níndir said in warning. “So I wouldn’t cross him if I were you.”

“Tell him not to ask stupid questions then,” Lutha complained.

Amathlogon unfolded his arms with a severe look which suggested that he was quite ready to dole out a spanking then and there, but the mahogany doors opened and Elder Feredir beckoned them inside. The Protectors each put a hand on Lutha’s shoulders and marched him into a long room where murals of pretty woodland scenes were painted onto the walls. The ceiling was mostly glass, so natural light shone into every corner of the room. Six rows of carved benches sat on either side of the central aisle, and at the front of the room were fourteen high-backed chairs arranged in a neat semi-circle facing the benches.

Thirteen of the chairs were occupied. Lutha noted that there were six ellith seated to the left of the single unoccupied chair and seven ellyn to the right of it, but they were too many for him to pay attention to each elf individually. Nithaniel and Feredir were placed directly opposite each other, but it was an ellon sitting at the centre of the semi-circle who caught Lutha’s eye. Even seated as he was, it was clear to Lutha that he was one of the tallest there. Sapphires and opals glittered in his pale gold hair, and his robes of silver and green were finer than any Lutha had ever seen before. While some of the Elders were regarding Lutha with quiet sympathy and others in curiosity, this ellon was staring at him through deep blue eyes, his expression one of cold disapproval. And yet, he didn’t look cruel. Severe, yes. Hard, yes. But not cruel.

“Come forward, child.”

That voice like velvet came not from the ellon but from an elleth seated on the other side of the unoccupied chair. Gowned in silver and white with tiny silver chains strung through the thick black hair that cascaded freely down her back, she was like some magical creature from a story. Lutha thought that she was beautiful, but only because under the scrutiny of her midnight blue gaze he couldn’t think of any stronger words. He sensed no disapproval from the elleth as she locked eyes with him, not even when he scowled at the Protectors for marching him forward a few more steps so that he stood directly in front of the Elders.

“We were told that you would not give your name, elfling,” said the ellon with the pale gold hair, his voice dripping with displeasure. “You will give it now.”

The elf next to him, raven haired and robed in unrelieved black silk with a silver circlet on his brow, fixed piercing emerald eyes on their prisoner. Lutha was silent. He looked away from the Elders and stared at the floor as he evaluated his options. Sometimes, it was necessary to pick one’s battles. He didn’t want these strange elves to know his name, but after all it _was_ just a name. He supposed that they could throw him in prison or cut off his hand whether they knew it or not. And having already been struck by Amathlogon for not giving his name, maybe the whole thing might be somewhat more painless if Lutha just conceded this point.

“My name is Lutha,” he said finally.

“Lutha, then,” the golden haired ellon repeated. “And where are you from, Lutha? You speak our language passably though not with an accent that I recognise.”

“I gave you my name. I’m not telling you anything more until you give me yours,” Lutha replied.

Glacial blue eyes lingered on him for a long moment until finally the ellon drew breath. “I am Elder Rethedir. These are my colleagues, Elder Faelind and Elder Aermanis.” Rethedir nodded first to the ellon dressed in black and then to the elleth with silver chains in her hair. Then, he indicated the rest of his colleagues, giving their names, but Lutha only heard Elder Dirnaith, Elder Angoliel, and Elder Serellon before deciding that he was going to temporarily stop listening. He wasn’t going to remember all those names so he didn’t see the point.

“Elder Nithaniel and Elder Feredir you have met,” Rethedir finished. “We are the Circle of Elders, the caretakers of Greenwood.”

“You’re actually more like a semi-circle,” Lutha observed.

Feredir and the brown haired elf to his right both stifled laughter, earning themselves a sharp look each from Rethedir. A big blond elf, who Lutha remembered was called Elder Serellon, leaned across and gave the brown haired elf’s shoulder a backhanded smack. “Don’t encourage him, Thavron,” Serellon snapped. “And you can shut it as well, Feredir.”

“The elfling has a point,” Thavron said calmly. He smiled at Lutha, his chocolate brown eyes gentle. “But the Semi-Circle of Elders sounds silly.”

“Regardless,” Rethedir said with cold pointedness, his gaze fixed on Lutha. “We _are_ the Circle of Elders. For the crime that you committed against an Elder of Greenwood, you will answer.”

The pronouncement induced dread in Lutha that he tried to hide beneath bravado and a toss of his dark hair. “I didn’t know that she was an Elder.”

“You would answer for it even were she not an Elder,” Faelind interjected neutrally. “Stealing is stealing.”

“That’s not my fault,” Lutha replied. “I didn’t make the rules.”

“Insolence, elfling.” Rethedir’s voice cracked like a whip, his blue eyes narrowing. “Where are your family?”

Lutha shrugged. “Not here.”

“Where are they?” Rethedir demanded.

“I told you. They’re not here,” Lutha repeated, sounding bored. “You don’t care where they are. You just want to know that someone will take me away from your precious forest so I don’t cause any more trouble.”

Faelind stirred, staring incredulously at the elfling. “We want to know why they have been so irresponsible as to leave you to wander alone, why they have left you no choice but to steal from us. Your family ought to be providing for you, Lutha, and we shall demand answers when they return for you. We do not abandon our children. This is not our way.”

“I’ll pass on the message,” Lutha said. “Because you’re not going to keep me here. You’re going to let me go when we’re finished.”

“No,” Nithaniel said quietly, from her place as the last of the seated ellith. “We do not let children wander homeless.”

“Just let me go! You don’t care, you don’t want me,” Lutha spat. “Stop pretending that you do. Just get it over with. Do whatever you’ve got to do. Beat me, throw me in jail for however long you need to, and then _let me go_.”

“Nithaniel is right. We do not let children wander homeless. Nor do we beat them. We do not beat anyone,” Aermanis said.

“Well, make an exception for me and then we can all go our separate ways,” Lutha retorted.

Faelind shook his head minutely, and the sunlight beaming down from the glass ceiling made his dark hair gleam an almost midnight blue. “You will not be going anywhere.”

Lutha’s patience had been wearing thinner and thinner. Suddenly it snapped like a cord that could take no more fraying. “Then throw me in a cell and have done with it!” he shouted, his eyes flashing with anger.

“No,” Faelind said gravely. “You are not going in a cell.”

Lutha had been sentenced to death exactly five times before. Twice, the Clan had rescued him. Twice, he had paid for his freedom with his young body. Once, he had escaped through a window with a broken grate. He knew what it was like to realise the sentence that was being passed without it being spoken aloud. That moment of dread where everything went still and the world stopped turning was like nothing else. And if these elves were not going to beat Lutha, if they were not going to imprison him…

“Please.” For the first time, Lutha looked like a child instead of a youth pretending to be grown up. Fear shone in his eyes – real fear, not put on – and he swallowed as he looked around at his captors. “Please don’t.”

“What is it, elfling?” Rethedir asked softly. “What do you fear?”

“I don’t want to die. My family are all gone and it’s just me,” Lutha whispered, the words spilling out of him. “I stole because I thought that I could sell whatever it was and earn coins to buy food and new clothes, and maybe even stay at an inn and have a bath. That’s not a lie. It’s the truth. I’m sorry that I broke your rules, but…please. Don’t execute me. I promise that if you let me go I’ll leave and you will never see me again. Not ever.”

Murmurs of disbelief had rippled through the Elders, even inscrutable Faelind and bad-tempered Serellon, and Rethedir’s gaze had softened so much that he was almost looking at Lutha with compassion. “Come here, child,” he said. Lutha didn’t have a choice as the Protectors moved him to stand directly in front of Rethedir. The Elder reached out and took the elfling’s bound hands, squeezing them lightly between his own. “You are not to die. That was never going to happen. I promise.”

“You are quite safe here,” Faelind added quietly.

Rethedir nodded, exchanging a glance with his green-eyed colleague before returning his gaze to Lutha. “Though I am eldest and chief among us, it is Elder Faelind who is concerned with the law of the forest and he who passes judgement on those who stand before us. You have admitted stealing and told us why you did so. Elder Faelind will take everything into account so that he may pass a fair and just sentence. Is there anything else that you wish to say, elfling?”

“I don’t want to,” Lutha replied, feeling numb.

“Very well,” Rethedir acknowledged. “Elder Faelind?”

Faelind shook his head slightly and gave Lutha a long look. His expression had returned to one of cool impassiveness. “I understand why you stole. I understand the difficulty of the situation that you have found yourself in. One might be forgiven for assuming that leniency is called for. But I think not. You have failed to demonstrate appropriate remorse. You have displayed a rude and insolent attitude, and you attempted to run from justice when you escaped Elder Nithaniel. So, _Lutha._ You will not be beaten and no blood will be drawn. But you will be soundly switched for your crime and your subsequent behaviour. Then, we will begin your rehabilitation. This is my judgement.”

“When?” Lutha asked briefly.

“As soon as our meeting is over, for we have more than just you to discuss,” Faelind replied. “The Protectors will take you to the kitchens now so that you can have a good meal. You look like you have not eaten well in far too long. When we are finished here, you will be summoned to the birch grove and your sentence carried out by Elder Rethedir.”

Lutha nodded distractedly to that last pronouncement, but his eyes flickered with doubt. “You’re going to give me food?”

“Everyone is deserving of good food,” Faelind said quietly.

“But what do I have to do?” Lutha asked, suspicion lacing his voice. “I can’t pay you for it.”

“You are our ward now, and it is our duty and our pleasure to provide for you,” Rethedir spoke up. “You need not pay for food freely given. Go now with the Protectors and they will see that you have plenty to eat.”

It didn’t seem right to Lutha that people who he had stolen from and who were going to punish him for that thievery also intended to give him a good meal. A soft apple and some stale bread would have made more sense, or maybe a bowl of stew cooked an unappetising shade of grey. The truth was that it wouldn’t even matter how poor the food was. When Lutha was hungry, when all he had eaten for five days were handfuls of berries and the jam tart and apples that he had stolen that morning, he would eat anything.

Lutha let himself be led out of the council chamber by the two Protectors who had first marched him in there, and he laughed softly as a sense of relief washed over him. He wasn’t going to be dragged outside and executed. He was going to live, with only a survivable switching to endure before he could move on from this place and carry on with his life. Shaking his head at his luck, the young thief looked around and found that he was finally able to take everything in a bit better. Not facing death did wonders for clearing the mind. “What is this place?” Lutha asked. “A palace? Is there a king?”

“Not yet,” Níndir replied. “They say that there will be one day.”

“They say? Who are they? Why isn’t there a king already? Hey, maybe that’s why I’m here.” Lutha smirked at Amathlogon. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Protector Amathlogon stared hard at Lutha in return. “I think not.”

“King Lutha,” the young thief said under his breath. “All hail the mighty King Lutha. It sounds good.”

The Protectors maintained a dignified silence as they led Lutha through the halls of the palace. Lutha couldn’t help but think of it that way, though he supposed that _not-palace_ might be more accurate if there was no king. They came in time to the kitchens, and Lutha was immediately taken aback by their sheer size. Given the grandeur of the not-palace, he thought that maybe he should have been prepared.

The main kitchen was long and wide with vaulted ceilings, and windows that looked out onto vegetable and herb gardens. The walls, which had more pots and pans hanging from them than Lutha had ever seen before, were lined with ovens and counters for the preparation of food. A long wooden table ran down the centre of the kitchen, but the room was so big that the table would have posed no obstruction even if the place had been a hive of activity. There wasn’t just the one room, either; through an open door in an arched frame, Lutha could see into a huge wine cellar, and there were other rooms with closed doors that hid the bounties within. Over all of it was the smell of freshly baked bread. It made Lutha’s stomach ache in pleasure.

A small staff was seeing to the running of the kitchen, and a tall elleth with honey-gold hair and sharp hazel eyes left off stirring a cauldron of soup when she saw the Protectors and their charge. “A prisoner, hmm?” she asked, nodding to herself and wiping her hands on the white apron that she wore over her dress of spring green wool. She gestured then to one of the benches tucked under the central table. “Sit him down there. And for the love of the Belain, stop towering over him, Amathlogon. He’s not going anywhere.”

Amathlogon glowered but stood back with his arms folded over his chest while Níndir pulled the bench out for Lutha to sit down. Lutha hadn’t expected kindness from the elleth, especially not once she had identified him as a prisoner, but she set a plate in front of him with a thick slice of fresh bread slathered with butter and accompanied by slices of cheese and apple. The cord binding Lutha’s wrists held him fast, but it didn’t restrict his ability to pick up the food with his hands and eat it. He savoured every single bite, from the sharp tang of the cheese to the warmth of the bread with the sweet butter melting into it. It tasted like the best thing that he had ever eaten.

“That’s better, isn’t it,” the elleth said, smiling gently at him. “You look better already.”

“Thanks,” Lutha said awkwardly.

“You are most welcome. I am Mistress Maechenebil,” the elleth added. “I serve the Elders of Greenwood.”

“I’m Lutha,” Lutha replied. “I’m a thief.”

Maechenebil’s eyes brightened with mirth. “Were. You _were_ a thief.”

Lutha gave no answer to that because he wasn’t sure how to. He was still a thief, wasn’t he? He hadn’t stopped being a thief just because he had been caught. And now that he _had_ been caught, he wasn’t going to stay in Greenwood – at least not this part of it; maybe he would have better luck further north – because he had no intentions of no longer being a thief. He had been stealing from people since he had been able to walk, and selling himself to strange men and women for not much less time. It was the only way that he knew how to survive. Without it, he was dead.

“This bread is nice,” was all he said.

“I am glad you think so. I baked it myself,” Maechenebil replied. She studied him critically. “When was the last time you had a home cooked meal?”

Lutha didn’t have to think about that. He always remembered his last proper meal. “A farmer’s wife gave me a hot meal twenty-four days ago and let me sleep in their barn.”

“Twenty-four days ago? Oh, you poor elfling. Well, you are a ward of the Elders now even as I was in my time.” Maechenebil smiled reminiscently as she walked around the table to go back to stirring her cauldron of soup. “They will find you a good home once your rehabilitation is concluded and you will be able to choose a good trade to learn, something to work at that you will enjoy. They will never let you go hungry. You have a home now, little one.”

“What does that word mean?” Lutha demanded, remembering that Elder Faelind had said it too. “That big word.”

“Rehabilitation? Well, thieving is a naughty thing to do. Some might call it bad, but that doesn’t mean that you yourself are a bad elfling,” Maechenebil explained. “Elflings usually do such things when they have been taught to or when they desperately need help but don’t know what else to do. Yet, they are still good inside. The Elders will help you find that, so that you may help yourself and others. You will have friends and a family. You won’t be alone.”

“I don’t need help, and I like being alone,” Lutha said stubbornly. “I’ve managed fine.”

“That is what I said too,” Maechenebil remarked wryly.

Lutha looked up from the slice of cheese that he had been about to eat, and gave the elleth a suspicious look. “Did you steal things?”

“I did. I was sure that I was grown up enough to take care of myself, eighty-three years old as I was,” Maechenebil replied. “But I couldn’t have been more wrong. So when I was caught stealing an opal necklace which I had thought to sell for coin, I was brought before the Elders to be judged – not by Elder Faelind, you understand; it was his father who held the position before him – and I was terribly afraid.”

“An opal necklace,” Lutha repeated longingly.

Maechenebil nodded but she suddenly appeared to be distracted. She sniffed at the soup, frowned, and then threw a handful of chopped herbs into it. “An opal necklace, indeed,” she agreed, resuming her stirring. “It was taken back by the Elders and I was sentenced. When I finished my sentence, I got given good employment as a cook’s apprentice, for I had some small talent in that area. I was a quick study and I impressed my mistress. I struck out on my own, and in time Elder Angoliel took me on to manage her kitchen. Now here I am, second in command of these great kitchens. I’ve even got my very own opal necklace, bought and paid for fairly by the savings from my wages.” With a proud smile, Maechenebil touched the opal pendant that hung from a silver chain around her neck.

Lutha looked at the necklace, and then he looked back at his food and continued eating in silence. It was a nice story but it sounded too good to be true. He didn’t understand why anyone – not least the Elders in all their finery – would care about an undersized thief in a tattered shirt. Besides, even if they did care, what would he do? He was good at selling his body and stealing. He could charm people and he was quick with numbers, and out of necessity he had learned a few languages for the times when he needed to talk his way out of difficult situations in foreign lands. That was about it. He could neither read nor write. He couldn’t make anything. He was a scrappy fighter but he couldn’t swing a sword, although he supposed that he was a good shot with a throwing knife. The elfling sighed. He just didn’t know what the Elders could do with someone like him. He had to get back to his old life, the only life that he knew, and he couldn’t do that in Greenwood.

“What makes you so sure that you want to leave?” Maechenebil asked softly, as if she had read his mind.

“I don’t belong here,” Lutha said quietly.

“Perhaps not yet,” Maechenebil agreed, her tone gentle. “But you can belong here. We are your people.”

Lutha sighed and tried to summon a response, but he didn’t know what to say. He had no time to think it out before a golden haired Protector strode through the door with a swish of his cloak. “Amathlogon. Níndir.” The warrior didn’t look at Lutha, his eyes fixed on his colleagues. “The Elders are ready for the prisoner.”


	2. The Justice of Greenwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lutha must face the consequences of his actions and consider his next steps while the Elders of Greenwood seek to give him a better life.

“The Elders are ready for the prisoner.”

Maechenebil’s gaze softened in sympathy while Lutha tried to look like he didn’t care. “Thank you, Elthoron. Come along, elfling,” Amathlogon commanded, hauling Lutha to his feet.

The Protector called Elthoron stepped aside to let them pass, but Lutha’s attention was on Amathlogon as he got pulled out of the kitchen. “Hey, remember when you wanted to know my name and you hit me for not telling you? Well, now you know my name but you’re still calling me _elfling_.”

“I smacked you, elfling. Lutha,” Amathlogon amended with an irritated roll of his eyes. “And that wasn’t even proper discipline. I would if I wasn’t so sure that Elder Rethedir will do a thorough job.”

“Smacked. Hit. They’re just different words,” Lutha pointed out.

Amathlogon’s expression became thoughtful but he offered no verbal reply as he and Níndir marched Lutha out of a side door and through the kitchen gardens redolent with the scent of herbs and freshly turned earth. From there they went through a wooden gate out onto a path that led around the side of the not-palace, past a barn that looked big enough to house twenty horses, and an oval shaped pond with a family of ducks floating languidly on the surface. From there the path branched off in a number of directions, each route leading to a different kind of garden. It was to the left that Amathlogon and Níndir went, taking Lutha past a walled garden with a heavy gate that blocked its secrets from view. In time they came to a stand of silver birch trees in a grove carpeted with soft grass and bluebells. Waiting for them were Rethedir and Faelind, standing together with their hands elegantly clasped behind them, and Nithaniel and Feredir sitting on a carved bench in deep conversation.

“The prisoner as requested,” Níndir announced, while Amathlogon gave Lutha a light shove so that he stumbled to a halt in front of the Elders.

Rethedir briefly thanked the two warriors, and they saluted as one before striding from the birch grove. Left alone with his finely dressed captors, Lutha lifted his chin and stared defiantly at them, unwilling to let them see fear in his eyes. Faelind coolly returned his gaze. “Lutha,” he said. “Go with Elder Feredir. He will assist you in selecting an appropriate switch.”

“I’m not doing that,” Lutha replied flatly. Feredir closed his hands around Lutha’s wrists and gave him a look of silent warning. “I’m not doing it!” Lutha repeated angrily. “I’ll take the switching but I’m not going to choose a switch and _present_ it. If you lot want to punish me then go ahead, but get the switch yourselves.”

“You will do as you are told,” Faelind said, his voice as cold as silk over steel.

Lutha took a step closer and glared up at the black-robed Elder, dislike glittering in his grey eyes. “Then trust me with a knife to cut it,” he challenged Faelind. “I dare you.”

The blow that Lutha had expected to be dealt for his insolence never came. Instead, Faelind just shook his head minutely. “I said, elfling, you will do as you are told.”

“Come, Lutha. I will handle the knife,” Feredir said, pulling Lutha away before he could get himself into more trouble. “You had better choose an appropriate switch. If you don’t know how to do it, I’ll help you.”

“I’m not choosing,” Lutha insisted sullenly. “You choose. Make it a pretty one.”

Feredir rolled his eyes and said nothing, simply laying his hand on the trunk of the tree that he had chosen. A moment later, a slender branch dropped down to the ground. Lutha stared as the hunter picked it up and used a belt knife to begin stripping it of twigs and leaves. “Did that tree just _give_ you a branch?” Lutha demanded.

“I asked her politely,” Feredir replied as if that explained everything.

“I hate this place,” Lutha said under his breath. “Even the trees are out to get me.”

“She likes you,” Feredir clarified. “Even saplings must learn the error of their ways. She said that she would not be a good mother if she did not help you.”

“What if I ask her politely to drop a branch on your head?” Lutha asked.

“Try it,” Feredir suggested with a soft laugh.

Lutha shrugged and looked at the tree. He felt stupid but he supposed that it was worth a try. “Please drop a branch on Elder Feredir’s head to teach _him_ the error of his ways.”

Like the soughing of wind in her branches, the tree replied, _Surely you cannot mean that, sapling. It is most unkind._

“What was that?” Lutha gasped.

“What was what?” Feredir asked, stifling a laugh. “Did she speak to you?”

“Trees can’t speak, don’t tease me!” Lutha snapped, like a little boy telling off an older brother. Realising how he had sounded, he drew himself up – not that it made him any taller than below shoulder-height on Feredir – and glared fiercely at the hunter. “Trees _can’t_ speak.”

_Yes, we can,_ the birch said, somehow sounding mildly offended. _Just because you have refused to hear us does not mean we have not tried to speak to you before. You have the blood of the forest in you._

Lutha lifted his hands to cover his ears, but he only got them as far as his chest before remembering that they were bound. “I don’t want it,” he said quietly. The tree had spoken and yet not spoken, brushing against his mind in a way that he feared might overwhelm him on top of everything else. And he didn’t want to know that he had the blood of the forest, whatever that meant. He cared nothing for his past. Those he had been born to hadn’t cared, so he didn’t either. At least, that was what he told himself. An overhanging branch ran lightly over Lutha’s dark hair like a hand gently comforting an agitated child, and Feredir led him away. Lutha complied, not quite meekly, but with somewhat less resistance than he had offered before.

As Feredir presented the slender switch to Rethedir, who inspected it intently along with Faelind, Lutha stared at them through his lashes. “Are you going to get it over with?”

“We are ensuring that the wood is smooth so that it will not cause any more pain than necessary or make you bleed. If you would like us to make a mistake, then by all means rush the process,” Faelind said frostily. “I did not realise that you were so eager to begin.”

“I don’t care,” Lutha replied. “It’s only blood. It doesn’t matter.”

There was a stir from the four Elders. Rethedir and Faelind exchanged wordless glances while Nithaniel looked at Lutha in dismay. “Lifeblood is precious,” Feredir said softly. “We do not spill the blood of our fellow beings without need. Even I do not go to the hunt unless food is needed or there are enemies nearing.”

“But when you bleed, your body makes more blood,” Lutha said. “So make me bleed if you like. You’d hardly be the first.”

“We don’t like,” Rethedir snapped suddenly, with a flash of blue eyes. “And whoever _did_ like to spill the blood of a child was selfish and cruel.”

For the first time, Lutha appeared to be lost for words. There was no contempt in his gaze now as he looked at Rethedir, just a thoughtful kind of surprise that someone would say such a thing. It had never occurred to him that anyone who hurt him was cruel. Or rather, that they were wrong. He understood cruelty, and he knew the difference between a cruel person and a kind person, but he didn’t understand it as something that shouldn’t happen. It was just the way that life was, the way that life had always been and would always be. He didn’t see any point getting upset about it.

“Elfling,” Rethedir began, and then he drew a breath and let it out slowly. “Lutha. We will chastise you for your wrong against us, against Nithaniel, but you will not be harmed and you will not bleed. If it took twelve attempts to find a suitable switch, we would make twelve attempts. Your safety is paramount. Do you understand?”

_No._ But Lutha nodded briefly, and said, “Yes.”

“Very well.” Holding the switch in his right hand, Rethedir seated himself upon a long bench that had been carved from the trunk of a fallen tree. “Come, since you wish to see this done.”

Lutha nodded guardedly, but it was Feredir to whom he looked instead of Rethedir. The hunter gave him an encouraging nod and a small smile of reassurance. Lutha took a deep breath and nodded again, but then he realised what he had done. He quickly scowled at Feredir before stomping forward to the bench. While Feredir fondly rolled his eyes and Nithaniel hid a smile, Elder Rethedir drew Lutha down over his knee, positioned so that the young thief’s upper body was resting on the bench with room for the switch to be comfortably swung.

“Lift up,” Rethedir said, giving his prisoner’s hip a meaningful tap.

“Um…no?” Lutha replied.

“Now is not the time for sass, little boy,” Faelind spoke up sharply.

“You’re a little boy,” Lutha retorted.

With a swish of black silk, Faelind strode to Lutha’s side and effortlessly lifted him up by the waist so that Rethedir could let down his leggings. He settled Lutha back into place and then stepped away with his hands clasped behind his back, his emerald gaze dispassionate. Lutha glared right back, but he caught his breath when he felt the switch coming to rest on his bared bottom. Hating Faelind would have to wait for another time. The switch lifted and then immediately fell with an expert flick of Rethedir’s wrist, leaving a vibrant pink line in its wake. Lutha couldn’t help it. He cried out in shock and pain, only to immediately clamp his lips tightly together.

Every flick of the switch left one of those lines behind, marching downwards from Lutha’s cheeks to his thighs with only an inch between each stripe. Lutha didn’t cry out again, but not even his desperate desire to be stoic in front of the older elves was enough to keep tears from his eyes. He couldn’t even bury his face in his arms properly with his wrists bound as they were. All he could do was turn his face against his upper arm and keep his eyes closed in the hope that his captors wouldn’t know that they had got to him. But of course they knew. There was no hiding the shaking of his shoulders or the tearful breaths that he gasped in as the switch rose and fell atop his bottom, painting delicate lines of fire.

“It is done,” Rethedir finally decreed when the last of two dozen strokes had landed. “I know the feeling of a crying elfling across my lap.”

Lutha kept his head down and his face turned away as Rethedir set him on his feet and pulled his leggings back up into place. The next thing Lutha knew, he was being gathered into Feredir’s arms for a hug. “No more, Lutha,” Feredir said gently. He reached for a knife at his waist and used it to cut the cord binding Lutha’s wrists. “You are safe now. Home with your people. You don’t have to worry any more.”

_Home_. No. Lutha couldn’t let himself think that. He stepped back from Feredir when his hands were free, and scrubbed tears of hurt and anger from his cheeks. “I will stay for a day or two,” he whispered stiffly. That was all the time he needed to think of a plan and let his hurts mend.

“You will be staying with Elder Nithaniel, for she has care of the young of the wood,” Faelind said.

“I want to stay with him,” Lutha replied, pointing at Feredir.

“It’s fine with me,” the hunter said helpfully.

“With Elder Feredir, then,” Rethedir agreed, and Faelind nodded in wordless acceptance of the older ellon’s ruling.

“I will tell Nestaeth that she is to attend your house instead of mine,” Nithaniel said in an aside to Feredir.

Rethedir dismissed them with a final cool look of appraisal for Lutha, and Feredir took his new ward by the hand and led him out of the birch grove. “Let’s go. I’m sure you have had quite enough of this place. Unless you want to rest before we leave.”

With a distasteful shake of his head that to his displeasure sent more tears spilling over his lashes, Lutha silently followed Feredir through the gardens and around the side of the not-palace. As they passed the stables, he recognised two of the Elders who had been in the council chamber – the big blond elf called Serellon, and a tall elleth gowned in green with her hair in a thick plait over her shoulder. They both glanced at Lutha, but he pointedly ignored them and looked at Feredir instead. “Who is Nestaeth?” he asked. “Why is she coming to your house? Because of me?”

“That was Nestaeth back there, Lutha,” Feredir replied. “Were you not listening earlier when Elder Rethedir named us all?”

“No,” Lutha said impatiently. “Who is Nestaeth?”

“She is our healer and a good friend,” Feredir said. He cast Lutha a sideways glance. “Judging by the look on your face, your experience with healers has not been good. I promise that Nestaeth is very kind. She will examine you so that she can heal any hurts that you may have and give you medicine.”

“No,” Lutha repeated, though his tone this time was flat and bored.

“Well, let’s fight that battle when we get to it,” Feredir said, as they crossed the not-palace courtyard and headed through the gates. “First of all you need a bath and more food.”

“Actually, first I have to get my things,” Lutha corrected the hunter. “I left them outside the market. And you can let go of my hand. I’m not a child.”

“I think we already established that you very much are. Besides, I don’t want you running off,” Feredir said. “Rethedir and Faelind would have my hide if I lost you.”

“That’s not my problem,” Lutha said. “It would be your fault.”

“Precisely,” Feredir said dryly. He sighed then and gave the sullen boy at his side a resigned look. “If I let go of your hand, will you promise not to run away?”

Lutha thought about saying something sarcastic, but he really did want to have his hand back. So, he just nodded reluctantly. “I promise.”

With a final considering glance, Feredir nodded and released Lutha’s hand. He kept a close watch on his charge as their path led them away from the not-palace and down the hill that they had climbed up earlier that day. “Where did you leave your things?” Feredir asked.

“Behind a tree somewhere,” Lutha replied.

“Oh, good. Try being more vague,” Feredir said sardonically.

“Well, I did leave them behind a tree. I stopped to drink from a stream about twenty minutes east of the market,” Lutha recalled. “ I found a nice tree there to hide my things.”

Feredir sighed. “Let’s go find this nice tree, then.”

They set off in the direction of the market, though Lutha noticed that Feredir circled around it rather than taking him right through the middle of town. As they walked, Lutha cast a couple of surreptitious sideways glances at the older ellon before finally deciding to break the silence and distract himself from the fire lingering across his bottom. “So,” he began. “Are you really old? Is that why you’re an Elder?”

“I’m not old. I’ve got another eighty years before I even move out of triple figures. Nithaniel is three and a half centuries older than me,” Feredir replied thoughtfully. “Next it’s Thavron, then Lavaneth, then Turcared, Nestaeth and Serellon…they’re all a lot older than me and Nithaniel, but everyone from Galawen up to Rethedir are centuries older even than them. You see, we don’t hold our positions because of our age. We hold them because we each belong to a guild relevant to our chosen craft or profession, and-”

“What’s a guild?” Lutha interrupted.

“Essentially it is a group of Elves – Men and Dwarves have them, too – who have the same or similar professions. The guilds are made up of apprentices or novices, journeymen or acolytes, and Masters or Mistresses,” Feredir explained. “The Elder is head of their guild. Each Elder is chosen according to Guild law, which varies between the different guilds. Some are chosen by other masters of the craft. Sometimes a journeyman or acolyte is chosen as the Elder’s personal student to be trained up as their successor. Or, sometimes the Elder to be replaced chooses a few likely candidates, and their peers select the one they trust the most to lead them. Then, all the Elders together see to the governance of the forest.”

“But what about Elder Faelind?” Lutha asked, remembering what Maechenebil had told him in the not-palace kitchens. “He took over from his father. So you can inherit as well?”

Feredir shook his head, though that didn’t stop him looking impressed that Lutha knew that about Faelind. “No, you can’t inherit. You have to get the job on merit, which Faelind did – not because his father held the role before him, and not because his mother was an Elder either.”

“Was,” Lutha repeated.

“Is,” Feredir clarified. “Thureneth is the Elder of Trade and Commerce. She travels frequently within the forest and without. Right now she is away in the north. The empty seat that you saw in the circle belongs to her. She will be most interested to meet you upon her return.”

Lutha shifted uncomfortably, and not just because of the unpleasant sting hidden beneath his leggings that he couldn’t ignore no matter how interesting the discussion. He didn’t know if it was a good thing that an Elder would want to meet him. “So you don’t have to be old to be an Elder,” he concluded, returning to his original question. “Just good at what you do?”

“That’s right. Of course Elder Rethedir is ancient, but even he hasn’t been a master craftsman forever,” Feredir said. “He has some mysterious past that he never likes to talk about. Not with me, anyway.”

“Oh. Well, you should think about giving yourselves a different name. ‘Elder’ is confusing if you’re not all old. It gives a false impression,” Lutha informed Feredir. “Are there always fourteen?”

“Fourteen Elders? Yes, fourteen of us as there are fourteen of the Belain though the similarities stop there,” Feredir said with a wry grin. “Most of us hold at least one or another of them in reverence as the patron of our craft.”

“And each Elder stands for a different thing?” Lutha asked, to make sure that he understood. “So you do hunting and stuff. Elder Nithaniel looks after children. Elder Thureneth is to do with trade. Elder Faelind does law things and Elder Nestaeth heals people. Everyone is in charge of something different?”

“Yes, exactly,” Feredir agreed with a pleased smile. “Though sometimes our trades connect. I work closely with Elder Galawen, who is concerned with the preservation of the plants and trees of the forest, and Elder Lavaneth who cares for animals both tame and wild. I am a hunter, but I am also a forester, watching over the trees, who speak to me as they do to many of our people. Together we three watch over the inhabitants of Greenwood who are not Elves.”

Lutha nodded thoughtfully as he took it all in. “Like bears? I’m sorry I said earlier that I hoped you’d get eaten by a bear. I didn’t mean it. Well, actually I did. And I’m not really sorry that I said it. But I don’t mean it any more, anyway. At least not as much as I did then. So I think that’s all right.”

Feredir barked a laugh at that. “You are an incorrigible bratling,” he informed Lutha with a teasing smile. “Though I promise you, a bear would not eat me. I know to be careful around bears.”

“I know to be careful around fire, but that doesn’t mean that a flame wouldn’t burn me.” Lutha thought that he had sounded quite wise. Suddenly, he stopped and looked around. “The tree is somewhere around here. Look for an old cloak fastened at the top with twine so it makes a sack. That’s mine.”

Sure enough they found the makeshift sack where Lutha had hidden it, and he picked it up with a quiet breath of relief. The bundle only contained some clothes in various states of repair, along with a stuffed fox that his Mama Bera had given to him and a smooth black stone on a leather cord that had been a gift from his favourite brother Fynn. It wasn’t much, but it was Lutha’s.

Holding the sack close to his chest, Lutha followed Feredir away from the stream and back onto the main road. Lutha had no intentions of telling Feredir that he was impressed by the infrastructure of the forest, but he secretly was. He had been in big human towns and settlements that only had stony dirt tracks and rough roads full of potholes, but the woodland paths were neatly tended and the roads smooth and paved. He hadn’t expected it when he had first crossed the border of the wood. But then, there was much that had happened since entering Greenwood that he hadn’t expected.

Feredir’s house was set within a large and airy glade, with a barn and an enclosed paddock off to the left. A trio of horses grazed calmly together while a young grey gelding pranced by the fence with his tail aloft and his ears pricked as he tried to catch their attention. The house itself boasted three storeys; the lowest level was constructed of brickwork, each brick a different shade so that it looked like a pretty puzzle of black, white, grey, and brown. Above it was a wooden balcony running around the middle of the house, while the top two storeys were built of sturdy logs. The doors and windows were filled with glass to let in plenty of natural light, their frames painted in a shade of dark green that made Lutha think immediately of the forest itself.

“It’s nice,” he said offhandedly.

“I’m fond of it,” Feredir agreed. His green eyes lit up suddenly as three wiry hunting hounds came bounding around the side of the house, their tails wagging so fiercely that they knocked into one another. “This is Carch, Gar, and Draug,” he informed Lutha, indicating each dog.

Lutha had gone still. “They’re very big.”

“Yes, but they won’t hurt you. My dogs are friendly,” Feredir promised.

That didn’t make Lutha relax. “They’ll bite me.”

“They won’t,” Feredir said firmly, but he clicked his fingers and with a gesture sent the hounds away to lie down in the shade of the balcony.

Lutha had been chased by enough dogs and even bitten by a few that he couldn’t bring himself to believe Feredir. He didn’t relax until they were inside. “Do you live by yourself?” he asked, as he was given a brief tour of the house. He thought that where the not-palace had been an exercise in luxury, Feredir’s home with its wooden beams, polished wood flooring, and thick rugs of soft fur, was just the sort of place that a hunter and forester would live. A wealthy hunter and forester who held a position of power, Lutha amended, because he could still see glimpses of luxury here and there, like a trio of hunting dogs carved from finely veined marble. They were too big for him to steal, but he still wondered how much they would sell for.

“I don’t have a wife or children if that’s what you mean,” Feredir said, pausing to point out the kitchen and the separate dining room. “I have a small household staff and one apprentice. Sometimes my sister and her husband will join me for dinner and stay overnight, as will certain of my friends and colleagues. Other than that it is just me. Well, me and the animals.”

“I thought that you would have a load of dead animals around,” Lutha said. “You know, being a hunter and all.”

“No. I do not hunt for sport,” Feredir pointed out. He grimaced distastefully. “It is a display of the utmost arrogance and disrespect for life when a hunter puts their kills out like trophies. You will never see such a thing in my home.”

Lutha was secretly relieved about that. Other than dogs, animals had never done him any harm. He didn’t think he would have liked it much if he’d stepped into Feredir’s house to find a great bear staring at him through glassy eyes. Setting that thought aside, he followed Feredir upstairs to the first floor where at the end of the corridor there was a second lounge with wide doors that opened out onto the balcony. Other doors led into guest bedrooms and bathing chambers, and there was a second flight up to the very top floor where Feredir told Lutha that he had his own private rooms. But, the hunter added, if he was up there and Lutha needed anything, Lutha was welcome to go up.

The room that Feredir took Lutha to was decorated in the shades of a forest in springtime with a touch of silver thread woven into the green bedding and curtains. At the foot of the bed sat a wooden chest with a deer carved into it, and a similarly decorated wardrobe and chest of drawers stood against the opposite wall. It didn’t escape Lutha’s notice that there was no balcony outside this room, just a large double window that looked over a natural pool at the back of the house. He would have made use of a balcony to help him slip away undetected when he was ready to leave, but it did work in his favour that Feredir’s private living quarters were another floor up.

Lutha supposed that word must have been sent ahead from the not-palace that he was going to be staying with Feredir; when the Elder led him into the bathing chamber next to the bedroom, the bath had just finished being filled by a young ellon who Feredir thanked and then introduced to Lutha as Alphros, his apprentice. Alphros bowed, a curtain of silky red hair falling forward. As he straightened, he swept it back out of his face and tightened the leather tie which had come loose before giving Lutha a slightly shy smile, deep blue eyes shining.

All that Lutha could manage was a wary nod in return. He was suddenly horribly aware of his scuffed boots and the holes in his shirt. Alphros wasn’t exactly finely dressed, not like the Elders had been, but he was still wearing good calf-high boots over leggings that weren’t threadbare with a finely spun wool shirt dyed pale blue under his leather tunic. Lutha hadn’t minded appearing poorly dressed in front of much older elves – well, that was a lie; he did mind it, but he could ignore it more easily – but looking bad in front of someone his own age didn’t make him comfortable.

Alphros stepped out of the bathing chamber, but a moment later he poked his head back in. “Master Feredir, should I clean your guest’s belongings for him?”

“Arrange for Lutha’s clothing to be cleaned and mended, but leave any other things be; they may stay on the bed,” Feredir replied. “Thank you, Alphros.”

“What if he steals?” Lutha asked suspiciously, as Alphros left again.

“He won’t steal, Lutha,” Feredir said calmly.

“You don’t _know_ that,” Lutha retorted.

Feredir looked up from testing the temperature of the water, and dried his hand on his tunic. “I do know it. Alphros won’t steal. I give you my word. Now, everything is ready. Towels are there, soap is there, and cleansing lotion for your hair. There’s a dressing gown hanging from the hook by the door, and I’ll lay out fresh clothes for you on the bed.”

“You won’t come in while I’m bathing, will you?” Lutha asked.

“No. But if you need help, I won’t be far away,” Feredir replied, with an encouraging smile.

Lutha waited until the door was firmly shut behind his new guardian before undressing and leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor. There was a jug of water and a cloth on the side, and he used those first of all to clean himself so that dust and grime wouldn’t fall off him into the bathwater. He might be a thief, but he was a clean thief. As he twisted around to scrub at a patch of dirt on his shoulder, which turned out to be a bruise anyway, he caught sight of the stripes painting his bottom. That made him scowl. It had been good of the Elders not to execute him but he couldn’t possibly like them, and he _certainly_ didn’t trust them – even if Feredir had been at least somewhat decent so far.

It had been so long since Lutha had last enjoyed a bath that he couldn’t help sighing in joy as he sank into the warm water. A faint scent of citrus rose with the steam, and herbs in the water gently eased every ache and pain. Lutha closed his eyes, dropping his head back against the edge of the bath with another soft sigh. Only when the water started to cool did he reluctantly wash his hair with a citrus cream that alarmed him by how much of a lather it produced. Finally, when Lutha was rinsed off, he got out and dried off using the fluffy towels that had been left for him, before putting on the dressing gown hanging by the door. It was warm and of a wool so fine that Lutha snuggled into it as he made his way back to the bedroom.

Alphros had taken Lutha’s cloak and tattered clothes away, leaving his stuffed fox and polished stone pendant on the pillow. On the bed now lay a shirt of light brown linen, with underclothing of the same material, and a knee-length tunic of light wool dyed the green of summer leaves. There were leggings to match the tunic along with soft ankle high boots of doeskin leather. Lutha slowly ran his hands over the clothing. It felt soft beneath his fingers. There wasn’t a single hole or loose stitch to be seen, and he suddenly felt like he very much wanted to wear it. Shrugging the dressing gown onto the floor, Lutha quickly dried the last remaining droplets of water off before pulling the clothes on. He didn’t care that the linen rubbed his well switched bottom. He didn’t care that the clothes were a touch too big for him. They were clean, and they had a fresh smell to them, and they looked nice.

“ _I_ look nice,” Lutha whispered, staring at himself in the mirror and finally starting to cry.


	3. A Healing Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Lutha must adapt to his new surroundings, he learns more about his own kind and himself. He even (tentatively) makes a friend.

There was no sign that Lutha had shed a tear by the time Feredir came to check on him a while later. He tried hard to ignore the sudden rush of pride that went through him as Feredir looked over his new clothes with a nod of approval and a pleased smile. It didn’t matter whether any of the Elders approved of him or not, Lutha reminded himself. He was going to be gone from their lives soon, so they could think what they liked. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wanted everyone to know that he was no longer dressed in rags.

“How do you like your clothes, Lutha?” Feredir asked.

“There’s no holes in them,” the young thief replied as if it was the most astounding thing.

“No holes. Well, except the ones to get your head and your arms and legs through,” Feredir added lightly. “Do you like the colours?”

“Green looks nice with my eyes. Some brown is fine but I can’t wear lots of it,” Lutha said.

Feredir gave his ward an appraising look. “Noted. You have an eye for colour. Those are a touch too big for you anyway but they were the smallest I had. We’ll go to town in the morning and get you more clothes. All I have planned for you for the rest of today is a visit from Nestaeth. But first dinner. Come, it isn’t far off.”

“I don’t understand why a healer needs to look at me,” Lutha complained as he followed the hunter. “You could just ask me if I’m hurt or ill.”

“Are you hurt or ill?” Feredir asked dutifully.

_“No,”_ Lutha insisted.

“Then you won’t mind humouring Nestaeth and her apprentice,” Feredir said, in the same calm voice that he had used since first colliding with Lutha in the market.

Lutha scowled but declined to comment. He followed Feredir past the dining room which boasted a long table for entertaining, and into the kitchen where there was a smaller table for more everyday occasions. Heat radiating from the oven made the kitchen warm and cosy though the floor was cool flagstone. Alphros had already laid the table, and he looked up from setting out a dish of butter and a jug of berry cordial to smile at Feredir and Lutha as they entered. While Feredir went to check on a pot of chicken soup bubbling on the stove, Lutha looked doubtfully at the wooden chairs around the table. He was going to have to sit on one of those, he thought, hiding a grimace.

Noticing Lutha’s hesitation, Feredir left the kitchen. When he returned it was with a plump cushion in his hand. He set it down on one of the chairs and gave Lutha an encouraging nod before going to dish up the soup. Soon all three ellyn were seated around the table, Feredir at the head with Alphros to his right and Lutha to his left. Conversation as they ate was light hearted, but Lutha mostly just listened because he was so overwhelmed by the joy of eating his second home cooked meal in one day. Besides, he still felt a little too self-conscious in front of Alphros to contribute much. Even so, he found out that the other boy was in his second month of apprenticing to Elder Feredir, that he was the third of five children from a family that lived further north, and that he missed his dogs terribly.

When the soup and bread were finished and the dishes cleared away, Alphros brought biscuits to the table. They were in two pieces, the bottom a circle and the top a ring filled with different jams – strawberry, blackcurrant, blueberry, raspberry, and winterberry which Feredir said was grown in the cold lands of the North. Lutha took one of the strawberry biscuits for right then, and he cleverly sneaked one of the raspberry biscuits into his pocket for later. Food was a fleeting thing. One day you had it and then the next it was taken away. Keeping secret food was only sensible. It was one of the ways that Lutha had survived.

“You might want to be careful that doesn’t crumble in your pocket,” Feredir commented. “Jam biscuits can get sticky.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Lutha said flatly.

Feredir calmly met his ward’s eyes. “The jam biscuit that I watched you put in your pocket.”

“I don’t have a jam biscuit in my pocket,” Lutha insisted.

“It is all right that you took it. This food is for you as much as for the rest of us,” Feredir said gently. “But you should have asked for something to wrap it in so that it doesn’t fall apart and stick to your clothes.”

With a wordless glare for Feredir, Lutha took the biscuit out of his pocket and tossed it onto the table before pushing his chair back so that the feet scraped across the stone floor. He got up and went back to the room that he had been given, slamming the door shut behind him with a crash. _Good_ , he thought savagely, as tears of angry humiliation pricked his eyes. It wasn’t just that Feredir had embarrassed him in front of Alphros. Mostly he was angry with himself. If he couldn’t even steal a biscuit properly, he deserved to have been hauled in front of the Elders earlier and given a switching. He was better than that. Much better. But these people were so sharp-eyed that they saw every move that he made. As if things weren’t difficult enough, he thought furiously.

Just then there was a light knock on the door. “Go away!” Lutha spat.

The door opened and Feredir stepped inside with a sigh. “I came to apologise.”

Lutha turned sharply and gave the hunter a suspicious stare. “Why?”

“Because I upset you. That was not my intention.” Carefully moving closer, Feredir placed a small plate that he had been carrying onto the bedside table. “I brought you a couple more biscuits. They are yours.”

“Fine,” Lutha whispered, looking warily at the plate as if he was afraid of it being snatched away. “I want to stay in this room now.”

“You may stay here if you want,” Feredir agreed. “But first we should talk about this.”

“I want to stay in this room by myself,” Lutha clarified.

“I understand. I’ll go soon. But you are in my care for now, and I need to know what I did wrong so I can fix it,” Feredir said. “Alphros is only my second apprentice and you are the first elfling I have taken as a ward. I don’t know much about caring for children. I’m still learning, all right? So whilst I can’t promise that I won’t mistakes, I do very much want to improve. You can help me.”

“I don’t like that you said about me taking the biscuit in front of Alphros,” Lutha said abruptly. “And I don’t like that you saw me taking it.”

Feredir nodded slowly as he gave careful consideration to that. “I see. Well, I can’t help that I saw you take the biscuit. As for speaking the way that I did in front of Alphros, I can understand why it may have embarrassed you and I am sorry that it did. From now on if I must tell you off or caution you against something, I will endeavour to do so in a more private setting. Is that fair?”

“Fine,” Lutha repeated quietly.

“Good. I am glad we cleared that up. Lutha…” Feredir hesitated for the briefest of moments before gently resting his hand on Lutha’s thin shoulder. “I know that you are not used to eating well. No doubt hiding food is natural. But as long as you are here, you are welcome to all the food that you want in my house or indeed any home that you stay in, whenever you are hungry. You will have three good meals a day. No food will be denied you. No food will be taken away from you once given unless something is found to be wrong with it, and then it will be replaced by something better.”

How desperately Lutha wanted to believe that. He wanted it to be true that he no longer had to feel the sharp stab of hunger pangs, that his head didn’t have to hurt and spin because he had gone days without food. He would give anything for that to be true. But instinct and experience told him that it wasn’t. They told him that Feredir was being nice for now but that he could turn at any moment. They told Lutha that he would go to bed alone that night and wake to find Feredir slipping under the covers next to him and quietly taking payment for all that he had done for his young guest, while Lutha would just close his eyes and pretend that he was anywhere else. That finely honed instinct, all those years spent being hurt and used, told Lutha that this was all just a trick, a game, one that he would lose like he always had before.

“Lutha,” Feredir said softly, his voice laced with concern.

Coming back to himself with a caught breath, Lutha tried to ignore the unpleasant wave of sickness that roiled through him. “All right,” he replied quietly, making himself look up. “But I still want to stay in this room.”

“Of course. Come out when you are ready,” Feredir said. “If that is no more tonight, I understand. Just remember that Nestaeth is still coming.”

Lutha nodded wordlessly. He had said all that he was able to say right then. He waited until Feredir had left again and the door was closed before turning to the plate with the biscuits on it. They went straight in the top drawer of the bedside table, and then Lutha lay down on the bed with one hand pillowed under his head and the other clutching the fox that his Mama Bera had given him when he had been too small to walk. At some point he must have fallen asleep, because when the sound of someone knocking on the door broke into his consciousness a while later, the light had faded and the room was in a state of dimness. Lutha sat up hastily, shoving his fox under the pillow and scraping his hair back from his face just as the door opened.

The elleth who he had seen at the not-palace stables, and who he vaguely remembered from the council chamber, stepped into the room. Light flooded every corner as she paused to turn up the lamp. “Greetings, Lutha,” she said gently, drawing the curtains across the window. “My name is Elder Nestaeth. I hope that I am not an unwelcome surprise to you.”

“You’re not a surprise,” Lutha replied, watching the elleth warily.

A pretty dimple appeared in Nestaeth’s cheek as she laughed. “But I am unwelcome. Very well. How have you been settling in?”

“Fine,” Lutha said guardedly. “And I’m not hurt or sick.”

“I am glad to hear you say so.” Nestaeth leaned down to set her leather bag on the floor, and as she did so her thick plait of golden-brown hair fell down over her shoulder. She brushed it back with an absentminded flick of her hand. “Still, I will examine you to be certain of that. I expect Feredir told you so.”

“He said something about it, but you could just believe me,” Lutha suggested.

“Indeed. I am afraid that I do not,” Nestaeth said grimly. “At the very least your right cheek is bruised. Judging by the colour, it has been there about five days. I doubt that there is damage to the surrounding bones, and likely its healing will be helped along with a simple salve, but it makes me wonder what other hurts you may be hiding.”

“If there was anything wrong with me I wouldn’t be walking or talking.” Lutha watched suspiciously as the healer removed a leather cord from around her neck with an ornately carved ruby dangling from it. “What’s that?”

“This is my healer’s pendant,” Nestaeth replied simply. Holding the cord aloft, she dangled the pendant over Lutha and slowly passed it over his head, his shoulders, and his arms. For the most part it was steady and it only stirred a little as if caught on a stray breeze. When Nestaeth brought the pendant lower down across Lutha’s chest and stomach, it started to swing erratically back and forth. Nestaeth nodded to herself as if some suspicion had just been confirmed. “Off with that tunic and shirt, Lutha,” she said. “I will help you, but I must see what you are hiding.”

“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you,” Lutha complained.

Nestaeth just shook her head briefly and put her leather cord back where it belonged, tucking the ruby pendant inside the bodice of her spring green gown while Lutha removed his tunic. His shirt he only lifted up, but it was enough to reveal a mass of bruises across his abdomen and the lower part of his chest. Mostly they were green and yellow. Lutha knew from experience that that was a sign of the healing process beginning, but here and there was a touch of blue and purple bruising too. He looked away from the flash of angry sorrow that he saw in Nestaeth’s dark brown eyes. He didn’t want her pity.

“What happened?” the healer asked quietly, removing Lutha’s shirt and setting it aside.

Shrugging, Lutha kept a careful eye on Nestaeth as she scanned the bruises with an expert gaze. “I stole a loaf of bread. The baker stole it back and gave me a beating. Stamped on me as well before he went back to his cart. He didn’t have to take the bread though. I’d already taken a bite, so it was no good to him.” Losing the bread had upset Lutha more than the beating. He could have taken the beating if he’d had more than just bruises to show for it.

“You are lucky to have escaped without a broken rib or two,” Nestaeth murmured, kneeling by the bed and taking a jar of salve from her bag. “Where did this happen?”

“It was before I came to the forest. Further south.” As Lutha realised what the healer intended, he drew back and put his arm out to block her from his chest. “Don’t touch.”

“I must touch if I am to apply this,” Nestaeth replied. “It is a salve of comfrey and lavender. I promise that it will ease your discomfort and speed the healing of your bruises.”

“I don’t care. Don’t touch,” Lutha repeated. “I’ll bite you.”

“We don’t bite, Lutha.” Nestaeth looked calmly at her patient as he bared his teeth at her. “The salve is going on one way or another and then we are going to continue the examination. Would you feel better if Nestorion took over?”

“I’ll bite him too,” Lutha informed the elleth.

“I will be sure to tell him so,” Nestaeth said agreeably.

Lutha bared his teeth at her again, and he kept them bared as Nestaeth stood up and unhurriedly left the room. She had left the jar of salve next to him on the bed. The lid was half off, releasing a scent that made Lutha think of flowers and pine trees. He wasn’t in a floral sort of mood, so he put the lid back on with a satisfying click. When Lutha looked up from the jar, he realised that he was no longer alone. Watching him from the doorway was a tall ellon with pale chestnut hair braided out of his face, wearing grey leggings and a sleeveless tunic of green and brown laced over a cream coloured shirt with fitted sleeves. He didn’t look anything like Nestaeth, but he had the same calm and patient air.

“You must be Nestorion,” Lutha said.

“I am. I heard that you want to bite me.” Nestorion stepped further into the room and closed the door behind him, keeping his leaf green eyes on Lutha. “Why? I’ve not done anything.”

“You’re breathing,” Lutha snapped.

“So I am,” Nestorion agreed. “I’m afraid I can’t help that.”

Lutha stared unblinkingly at the healer. “Elder Feredir said that you were Elder Nestaeth’s apprentice. I thought that apprentices were young.”

“I suppose it is never too late for one to learn a new craft. Do you think I am old, then?” Nestorion asked with a trace of wry amusement in his voice.

“You could be any age. I don’t know how to tell,” Lutha admitted. “But you’re a grown up. You know, a proper grown up. Not like when someone is a child one day and then the next day they kill a boar or something stupid like that and all of a sudden they’re grown up.”

“Hmm. I shall remind Feredir that I am a ‘proper grown up’ as you say. Perhaps he has forgotten that I was the healer who attended him nine hundred years ago when he got his head stuck in the bars of a gate.” Despite Nestorion’s tone, his eyes had a merry light to them. “Apprentice indeed. Still, I expect that I shall always have something more to learn from Elder Nestaeth.”

“Were you a thief too?” Lutha asked curiously.

“I was not. I was an orphan, abandoned by my birth family,” Nestorion said in a no-nonsense sort of way, kneeling on the floor in front of Lutha and removing the lid from the jar of salve. Ignoring the narrowing of Lutha’s eyes, he started to carefully spread the salve over the bruises. “A foster family took me in, but they had so many elflings already that I was quite forgotten about. When I was small, Elder Nestaeth came to our village. She saw that I was neglected and hungry. She took me as her foster-son, and soon after that she formally adopted me. I became her apprentice when I was old enough.” Nestorion sat back on his heels and took a cloth out of Nestaeth’s bag to clean the salve from his fingers, and as he did so he looked up at Lutha and smiled. “But I will always be her son.”

“Why did she give you a name that’s just the boy version of hers?” Lutha asked.

Nestorion lifted one shoulder in an elegant half-shrug. “I was already called Nes by my foster-family. I didn’t like that. It didn’t mean anything. But I did like that it matched the start of Elder Nestaeth’s name. She let me keep it and just gave me a more meaningful version of my original name.”

“Oh. I was abandoned too,” Lutha ventured. “My parents didn’t want me when I was a baby. I guess we’re the same that way.”

“It is a terrible thing to be abandoned, but one can always hope to find where they belong,” Nestorion said gently. “I have found that. I wish it for you too.”

Lutha fell silent to think about that. Hope was a dangerous thing. It was too easy for people to snatch it away, which hurt all the more when one was desperate and hope was all that they had. He didn’t want to hope. “Are you done with healing stuff?” he asked, to cover his thoughts.

“No. I must examine you all over,” Nestorion replied, sounding sympathetic. “I wish to be sure that you are not injured elsewhere.”

“But that means taking all my clothes off,” Lutha said slowly. “What if there are parts of me that I don’t want you to see or touch?”

“It is me or Elder Nestaeth, but I promise that we won’t look or touch any more than we absolutely have to. Why don’t you put your dressing gown on,” Nestorion suggested. “I will only uncover one part at a time.”

“You can look at my back and my shoulders, and you can touch there,” Lutha allowed. “You can look at the stripes from the switching but you’re not allowed to touch. Don’t look anywhere else. I’ll bite if you do.”

Nestorion nodded, but his green eyes had darkened with concern both at what Lutha had said and what he had not said. Without passing comment on it, the healer helped Lutha to carefully lie facedown. Though Lutha’s lower back was clear of injuries, the flesh from the middle of his back up to his shoulders was crisscrossed with white lines. “Tell me what happened here, Lutha,” Nestorion said softly.

The elfling closed his eyes as he felt the tip of a finger pass gently across one of the scars. “I was made an example of. One of the children who I taught to steal got caught. Father Vali had me whipped in front of everyone for not teaching her well enough.”

“And what happened whenever _you_ were caught stealing?” Nestorion asked. “Did your teachers pay for it? Or did you?”

Lutha was surprised that the question made tears sting his eyes. “I did. I’m easy to hurt but I don’t know why.”

Sighing quietly, Nestorion began to rub an oily lotion into the scars and pretended not to notice as Lutha quickly dashed tears away. When the lotion was rubbed in, leaving only a glistening sheen behind, the healer gave Lutha gentle warning before drawing down his leggings to examine his striped bottom. Lutha tensed in a way that he had not when Elder Rethedir had bared him for punishment. He held himself stiffly, struggling to relax. “Easy, Lutha,” Nestorion soothed him. “No touching. I promise.”

The switching from Rethedir had been thorough but not cruel, and Nestorion only had to give the pink stripes a cursory examination by sight to be assured that Lutha needed no treatment. He completed the rest of his inspection as quickly as possible, careful to avoid any areas that might trigger something for Lutha. When it was over, he fetched warm nightclothes for Lutha to change into, and turned away under the guise of placing his healing salves on the bedside table so that his patient could have some privacy.

“Is it all finished now?” Lutha asked, when he had pulled the night tunic over his head.

Nestorion nodded and turned back around, gathering up the clothes that Lutha had discarded to put in the laundry basket. “Yes. Thank you for letting me examine you. Now, I heard that Elder Feredir is taking you to get new clothes tomorrow. Are you excited about that?”

“I don’t know,” Lutha said uncertainly.

“What is worrying you?” Nestorion asked gently.

Lutha looked down and picked at the edge of his sleeve with a slight frown. “You don’t get new clothes for no reason. If I’m going to owe Elder Feredir or he wants something from me, I would rather know now. I don’t want it to be a bad surprise.”

“You are getting new clothes because you need them. Since Elder Feredir is your guardian it is his duty to provide them,” Nestorion said, startled. “You don’t owe him anything.”

“But that’s not how it works. If someone gives you something it’s because they want something in return,” Lutha insisted.

Nestorion sat next to Lutha on the edge of the bed, careful to keep a respectful distance between himself and the wary boy. “Elder Feredir will get clothes for you because you are his ward. He would do the same for any child or apprentice of his without expecting anything in return. That is how it works _here._ You will owe him nothing. He will take nothing from you as payment.”

“I can really just take the clothes and wear them? He won’t expect a single thing from me?” Lutha asked doubtfully.

“All that he will expect is that you tell him what you like and what you don’t like, because he wants to buy you clothes that you enjoy and that fit well,” Nestorion replied. “He will want to know what colours you like best, what materials feel good. The most important thing is that you are comfortable and happy.”

“I don’t understand why you say you’re all so concerned about me being comfortable and happy,” Lutha admitted. “Why do you care? You don’t know me. I stole.”

“Of course you did, but you were desperate, weren’t you? You were all alone, half starved and unhappy,” Nestorion said gently. “No one, especially an elfling, should have to live like that. Everyone deserves to have a good life.”

A thought occurred to Lutha so suddenly that it pushed the clothes right out of his mind. “I know that I’m not a proper grown up like you, but everyone keeps calling me _elfling_. A child. Is that true?”

“Well, how old are you?” Nestorion asked.

“I’m sixty-eight,” Lutha said. “Humans when they’re sixty-eight aren’t young.”

Nestorion gave his patient a long look. “Have you never known your own kind, Lutha? You were always raised by humans?”

“There was this one merchant, he was an elf, and he used to trade with my family. He taught the senior members of the Clan how to speak his language. That’s how I learned,” Lutha said slowly. “But I was never allowed to meet him. They would lock me in one of the wagons until he was gone. I think…I didn’t really understand at the time. Now I think they were afraid of him seeing me and making them hand me over.”

“That is very likely,” Nestorion agreed quietly. “Lutha, do you know anything about elves? Anything at all?”

“You won’t shock me by telling me that we live forever. I know that. Mama Bera told me when I was little,” Lutha said. “She told me that elves can’t die. But I would be dead if you cut off my head so I don’t think that can be true.”

“It is not entirely true. There are certainly exceptions to the rule that we cannot die. Like having one’s head cut off,” Nestorion said dryly. He shook his head then and let out a soft sigh tinged with regret. “You have missed out on knowing about your own kind, Lutha. About yourself. You can learn so much from being here. But to answer your first question now…elves are not full grown physically until they are between fifty and one hundred. They need to have passed at least their one hundred and forty-fourth year – which we call their first _yen_ – before they are considered for many adult responsibilities. Even then that is so incredibly young compared to those who have lived for thousands of years that they are still mere youths. If you are sixty-eight – and I am surprised; you are small, so I thought you even younger than that – then you are certainly still a child.”

“I’m a child,” Lutha repeated in a slow whisper.

“Yes. And we want very much to care for you and ensure that the rest of your childhood is as bright as it can be,” Nestorion said gently.

“Is…is it bad that humans raised me?” Lutha asked, because he didn’t know how to process what he had just been told.

Nestorion hesitated, searching for the right words. “It is unusual,” he said finally. “Humans in general are not bad, though it seems that yours were not very good to you.”

“Some weren’t.” Lutha took a deep breath as if he wanted to say more, but years of distrust came to the fore and slammed up the walls around his heart before he could get the words out. He looked away, and said distantly, “I want to go to bed now.”

“You can do that,” Nestorion agreed. “I have left the salves that I used and I will talk to Feredir about when they need to be applied. In a few days I will return to see how you are. If you don’t object, of course.”

Lutha glanced back at the healer and gave him a small nod. “I like you a bit. I didn’t want to but I do. You’re nice.”

“I am glad that you think so. I like you too,” Nestorion said gently, smiling at the elfling as he got to his feet and picked up the leather healer’s bag. “Sleep well, Lutha.”


	4. A Thousand Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Lutha discovers that not everyone will be kind to him even in Greenwood, he learns some valuable lessons about trust, consequences, and never judging a book by its cover.

The first thing that Lutha did when he woke some time after sunrise was eat the biscuits that he had hidden the day before. They weren’t much, just enough to see him through to whenever he next got food. Of course, that turned out to be a short while later at breakfast, but Lutha was still a little unsure about the three meals a day promise. He hadn’t entirely trusted that there was going to _be_ any breakfast until he had followed his nose to the kitchen to see spring berries and whipped cream, scrambled eggs topped with herbs, smoked fish, jam and honey to go on warm buttered toast, and a cheese so soft and creamy that it could be spread with a knife. Lutha could have cried in relief.

After breakfast came clothes shopping. Feredir took Lutha back to town, and their first stop was in a shop run by a pretty elleth with the same moss green eyes as Feredir and even the same strands of red that glinted among long brown hair. Just as Lutha had wondered if the two were family, Feredir had introduced the elleth as Tindumiel, his twin. Tindumiel had smiled warmly and ushered the ellyn into her shop, where a dazzling array of bolts of cloth were on display. There were all sorts of materials and textures – wool, linen, silk, cotton, velvets, and even more besides, dyed nearly every hue imaginable. Lutha had stared wide-eyed, hardly able to believe that not only was Feredir going to let him have new clothes but that he could choose from so many beautiful colours.

And yet, by the time they left the shop with Lutha having been properly measured and fitted, an order had been placed for enough clothes that he would be able to wear a different outfit every day for a week. Some of the shirts were even going to be silk. _Silk,_ Lutha thought incredulously, as they said goodbye to Tindumiel and made their way out into the square. How could he ever go back to wearing tattered rough-spun linen after having his very own silk shirts? He was even going to have two fine cloaks, one for when it was raining and a lighter one for when the sun was out. Two cloaks! It was too much for him to take in.

“Now we’ll be going to Master Rhuvendir,” Feredir was saying, while Lutha silently marvelled. “He sells a fine assortment of leather goods. You’ll want a pair of shoes and some boots at the very least. Tell me if you see anything else you like – belts, coin pouches, travel bags, hair ties, that sort of thing. Hmm, actually, you could do with all of those. The bigger things you can even get engraved if you want.”

Lutha just nodded distractedly, but he paid a little more attention when they came to their second stop of the day and Feredir put a hand on his shoulder at the door. “What is it?”

“You ought to know that Master Rhuvendir is my father,” Feredir began.

“Does your family own every place in town?” Lutha asked.

“No, they don’t,” Feredir replied, with a soft laugh. “But listen to me. Adar will be happy to do business with us. Still, I should warn you that he may have already heard about what happened with you and Elder Nithaniel. He may have his own opinions about that.”

Lutha looked warily at the door of the leather shop and then back at Feredir. “Is he going to hurt me? I won’t go in there if he’s going to hurt me.”

“Oh no, of course he won’t hurt you,” Feredir promised. “He _might_ suggest that you deserve more than one dose of the switch.”

“He’s got no right to say that,” Lutha snapped. “You’d better tell him that I’ve been punished and that I’ll bite him if he touches me.”

“Somehow I don’t think that would go down too well,” Feredir said calmly. “Besides, he won’t lay a hand on you or tell me to. You have my word.”

“Fine, Elder Perfect-Who-Never-Stole-A-Thing-In-His-Life,” Lutha muttered.

That made Feredir bark a laugh, and he just laughed harder when his charge glared sullenly at him. “I never said that I’ve never stolen anything,” he said, his eyes sparkling with merriment. “I stole a block of cheese once on a dare from my sister. We got into so much trouble that it quite ruined cheese for me, at least for a while. But I promise you, my father isn’t in the habit of hurting elflings. You will be safe.”

“I said fine,” Lutha replied irritably. “Are we going in or not?”

Feredir nodded and guided the elfling inside with a reassuring hand on his shoulder. A bell on top of the door rang, and Lutha breathed in the sweet and slightly earthy smell of leather. As he looked around at the craftwork neatly on display, taking in everything from hair ties and belts to horse reins and chairs, a tall ellon with hair the shade of a red autumn leaf strode out from the back room. Lutha felt Feredir straighten at his side.

“Adar,” the hunter said respectfully. “Fair morning.”

“Fair morning, hil-nín, though the noon hour shall soon be upon us,” Master Rhuvendir replied. Green eyes a shade darker than Feredir’s lingered on Lutha. “I see you have a new customer for me. An apprentice?”

“My ward, sir,” Feredir clarified.

Lutha glanced up from under his lashes to give Rhuvendir a dark look. He didn’t see why he should be friendly to someone who was just going to think bad things about him anyway. The leatherworker simply looked him over, and then repeated, “Your ward. This elfling has been sentenced by Elder Faelind. Is it not so?”

“Yes, he was sentenced,” Feredir admitted reluctantly. “But he is a good boy, Adar. He just made a mistake.”

“I didn’t make a mistake,” Lutha said. “If you make a mistake then you didn’t mean to do something. But I meant to steal.”

“How enlightening,” Rhuvendir said dryly. He gave the elfling a long look before turning to his son. “You might add a paddle to your selection today.”

“Your suggestion is noted, Adar,” Feredir said, bowing his head slightly. “Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you _so_ much,” Lutha agreed.

Rhuvendir just stared at him in silent disapproval while Feredir rolled his eyes at Lutha from behind his father’s back. In the end there was no need for them to spend more than an hour in the shop, which Lutha thought was most probably a good thing. He was fairly sure that with every passing minute, the stern leatherworker thought him more and more deserving of being on the receiving end of some implement the likes of which he did not care to become acquainted. With that risk seeming to increase every time Rhuvendir looked sharply at him, Lutha was relieved when Feredir finally went to arrange payment of the bill and collection of the goods.

“I want to wait outside,” Lutha decided. He huffed softly as his guardian hesitated. “I won’t run away.”

“Don’t go far from the door, then,” Feredir cautioned him. “I won’t be long.”

Lutha nodded and left the shop, walking a few paces down from the front door to a carved bench under the shade of a tree. He sat and gazed out into the hustle and bustle of the market, not really seeing the people going about their business. He still couldn’t believe that so much had been bought for him. Most of it would take a few days to a week to be ready because it was being made to measure, but some of it he was taking back to Feredir’s house that very day, like the hair ties, coin pouch, and belts that the hunter was paying for right then. Lutha had been dressed in fine things before by wealthy patrons who had wished him to look nice for the friends they had showed him off to, and sometimes when he had returned to the Clan at the end of his contracted hours or days it was with a gift of beautiful clothing or even a necklace or a ring. But those things had never _belonged_ to him even though it was his body that had paid for them. He’d always had to hand them over to whichever Clan Father had been in power at the time. Now all these things were going to be his, and he was even starting to believe that they wouldn’t be taken away from him.

“Nimtolien, Halosir. Look.”

The voice deliberately intruding on Lutha’s thoughts made him look up. His eyes fell on three young ellyn watching him from across the street. The one who had spoken had dark hair braided at the temples, and the corner of his mouth was pulled up in an unkind smirk that made Lutha tense. The other two were looking at Lutha with expressions that lingered between curiosity and contempt. Lutha’s heart sank as he prepared himself for a fight. He didn’t want to fight, but he knew how to recognise trouble and he knew instinctively that those three were looking to start something.

“It’s the Elders’ new pet,” the smirking one added.

“I saw him trip up Elder Nithaniel yesterday,” said the boy called Nimtolien, whose reddish hair glinted in the sunlight. “He _stole_ from her, Raegalas.”

“What’s it got to do with any of you?” Lutha demanded.

“Where are you even from?” Raegalas asked with a laugh. “Your accent is funny. Is it true that you were raised by humans?”

“So what if I was?” Lutha retorted.

“Why would anyone _let_ you be raised by humans?” Nimtolien sneered. “Humans can’t raise an elfling properly. They would be dead before you were anywhere close to grown up.”

“Your family must have really not wanted you,” said blond Halosir.

Lutha had spent his life going back and forth about his birth family. Sometimes in his head, he had been born into a rich family that had lived in a mansion behind great iron gates, and the Clan had broken in one night and stolen him. Other times, his birth family had given him away because they had been poor and he had been just one more mouth to feed, but they had still wanted a good life for him. Occasionally he liked to think that he had been a much wanted and loved baby, and even now his family was searching for him. Then there were the times where he had no choice but to believe what the Clan had always told him, that he had been found on a rubbish heap far in the south. And what explanation could there be for that other than his family just hadn’t wanted him? It didn’t matter how often he tried to resign himself to that. It still hurt. And not in a slightly uncomfortable twinge sort of way, but in a heart-clenching way so deep inside that it took his breath away if he let himself dwell on it.

“Shut up,” Lutha said quietly to the other boys, his fists clenched in his lap.

“He has manners like a human,” Halosir observed.

“None at all, you mean,” Nimtolien added, laughing.

“Shut up!” Lutha surged to his feet and took an angry step closer to the older ellyn, his eyes flashing with anger. “Leave me alone or I’ll bite you.”

Nimtolien’s mouth fell open, but Raegalas just stared at Lutha in a thrilled sort of disbelief. “Oh, he wasn’t raised by humans. He was raised by dogs. Maybe that’s why he got sent with Elder Feredir, so that he would feel at home with the hunting hounds.” Raegalas smiled at Lutha. “Be careful you don’t give them fleas.”

Without warning, Lutha flew at Raegalas and the two of them went down to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. Raegalas must have received some sort of formal training, because he effortlessly rolled Lutha over and wrenched his arm up behind his back in restraint. But where Raegalas had the upper hand in size, strength, and knowledge, Lutha was a vicious and scrappy fighter. He didn’t care about hitting, pulling hair, biting, or anything else that was necessary to win. Because he had learned that winning was never about victory. Winning was about survival and so you did what you had to. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t pretty or honourable.

_“Elflings!”_

Nimtolien and Halosir had jumped into the fray in an attempt to help their friend, but they had only been beaten (and bitten) for their troubles. Now, however, they tumbled backwards in shock as Master Rhuvendir strode out of his shop with Elder Feredir just behind him. “Stop that at once, and come here,” Rhuvendir commanded the boys.

“You heard him,” Feredir added, as Raegalas opened his mouth in protest. _“Move!”_

Using his shoulder to push Lutha off him, Raegalas jumped to his feet. Lutha got up as well, but he hung back, breathing hard, angry tears in his eyes. As Nimtolien and Halosir slunk past him, glowering, they kicked pebbles in his direction. He almost flew at them again, but Feredir was immediately at his side, holding him still with a firm but gentle hand on his chest as Rhuvendir herded the other three boys into the shop.

“They deserved it and I’m not going to say sorry, I don’t care what you do to me,” Lutha spat.

“I asked you to stay near the shop – which you did, so thank you – and then Adar and I heard a commotion,” Feredir said. “We came out and found the four of you fighting. What happened?”

Lutha growled in frustrated anger. “Ask them!”

“Adar is dealing with them. I am asking you,” Feredir replied, keeping his tone calm and even. “Those boys are not unknown for starting trouble with other elflings. I did not say that this was your fault. I’m not assigning blame to you. I asked what happened.”

Rage written across his pretty features, Lutha glared up at Feredir. “They said things. Things about me. They said that my accent is funny and about the humans not raising me properly. They said that I have no manners and that my birth family didn’t want me. I didn’t even start speaking to them. I was just sitting there on that bench! _They_ started speaking to _me_. They called me the Elders’ pet.”

“They clearly started it and were very unkind to you,” Feredir said patiently. “I can see why you are upset. You have every right to be. Who started the fighting?”

“I did. But that dark haired one, he deserved it!” Lutha snapped.

“All right. I am not shouting,” Feredir quietly cautioned the elfling. “Please do not shout at me.”

“But I told them to leave me alone or I would bite them, and the dark haired one said that I was raised by dogs and that’s why I was sent to you, so that I would feel at home with your dogs!” Lutha wasn’t exactly shouting anymore, but he pulled free from Feredir and agitatedly paced up and down. “He said be careful not to give your dogs fleas, and I don’t even have fleas. That healer, Nestorion. He would have told you if I had fleas. Did he tell you that? Did he? No, he _didn’t_ , because I don’t.”

“I know you don’t. And Raegalas is wrong. You weren’t sent to me because of my dogs. You weren’t sent to me at all. You chose me, didn’t you?” Feredir said gently. “You are not my pet, Lutha. You are my ward. Would you like a hug?” he added, opening his arms to the upset elfling.

“No!” Lutha replied tearfully. “I didn’t want to stay here but you all made me! As if it was ever going to be so easy. Now I’ll have to go back in front of Elder Faelind for starting a fight and I’ll be punished all over again!”

Despite Lutha’s protest, Feredir pulled him in for a hug and held him close. “No. No, you won’t,” he murmured. “Not everything goes to Faelind. Only big things. I’m here, Lutha. It’s all right. I’m not angry and nobody is taking anything to Faelind. Relax. It’s going to be all right. You’ll see.”

“But they hate me,” Lutha said against Feredir’s chest. “Everyone knows that I’m a thief. I’m not welcome here.”

“You’re not the first elfling to have turned to thieving. You won’t be the last. Besides, you won’t always be a thief. You can be so much more.” Feredir gave Lutha a gentle squeeze before drawing back and looking down into his eyes. “You just need some time to figure out your place in the world. Now, we can go home right away if you like but why don’t we stop in The Mysterious Deer for some lunch?”

Lutha nodded quietly, and he stayed outside while Feredir slipped back inside Rhuvendir’s shop to collect the things that were ready to take home that day. As he waited, Lutha pulled his hand across his face to dry his tears, and then he wrapped his arms around himself and stared at the floor. That was better than looking at the families giving him a wide berth as they walked past him or the disapproving vendors at their stalls. He knew that people would have witnessed his fight with the other ellyn. He couldn’t imagine what they would think of him now that he had fought _and_ stolen in the middle of town in the space of two days.

When Feredir came back out with a satisfied look on his face that made Lutha wonder if the other three boys were getting it from Master Rhuvendir, the hunter led his charge out of the square and down a narrower street lined with shops. They turned to the right and found The Mysterious Deer, a wooden building three storeys tall. Outside the establishment hung a sign depicting a trio of white deer; a stag, a doe, and a fawn. With its coat of green paint weathered with time, the tavern looked a little rustic compared to the two well kept inns that looked out over the square, though no less inviting for it. Besides, the smell of roasting meat and fragrant herbs, and the crackle of the fire in the hearth as Feredir opened the door and ushered Lutha inside, was so welcoming that the faded paint didn’t matter.

A serving elleth in a yellow dress with green leaves stitched along the sleeves, and a white apron around her waist, showed the two ellyn to one of the inn’s private parlours. She set down a basket of warm bread with a small plate of butter, and left two menus bound in leather for them to look at. As the elleth left, Lutha picked up one of the menus and stared at it. The front of the leather book had a pair of antlers embossed there. Lutha turned to the first page, but the handwritten words just swam on the thick paper. “I can’t read this,” he said under his breath.

“That’s all right,” Feredir said gently. “There is no shame in that. Elder Angoliel will help you to read our language with no trouble, and I can help you for now.” He shifted so that he was sitting closer to Lutha, and touched the first item on the menu with the tip of his finger. “If you want something light to start, there’s carrot and orange soup or a salad of spring greens with apple and pine nuts. After that, they have venison stew served in a wooden bowl or a round loaf hollowed out with the middle of the bread served for dipping. Or there’s chicken and mushroom pie, or freshly caught fish with cherry tomatoes and spinach.”

“A tomato shouldn’t taste like a cherry,” Lutha said quietly. “That’s not right.”

Feredir laughed at that. “It wouldn’t be right. Cherry tomatoes are the size of cherries. I promise they still taste like tomatoes.”

Still looking suspicious of the cherry tomatoes, Lutha chose the venison stew that came in a bread bowl. He closed the menu and sat in silence, using the tip of his finger to trace a knot in the wood of the table as the serving elleth came to take their order. Only when she had left them alone did he speak, though he kept his eyes down. “You said I won’t go in front of Elder Faelind for this.”

“You might be brought before him to tell your side if the parents of the other elflings choose to take it further, but I doubt that they will,” Feredir replied. “Even if that did happen, you would not be in trouble. You were being bullied. You fought back the only way you knew how.”

“Are you going to hurt me for it?” Lutha asked warily.

“No. I will not hurt you,” Feredir promised. “But if someone speaks to you again the way those elflings did, or tries to hurt you, just get away from them. Come find me or whichever Elder you know is nearest. Failing that, another adult. My father and my sister will help you. Mistress Tegildis and the others who work here will help you, as will any of the innkeepers in town. The shopkeepers too, for that matter. The Protectors will help you; one will surely be within shouting distance if you cannot run away. You are only now learning to trust. You did not know what to do. Now you know.”

Lutha picked at one of the warm bread rolls, and nibbled slowly at the piece that he had torn off. “Does that mean that if it happens again you _will_ hurt me?”

“I will not ever harm you, Lutha,” Feredir said quietly. “But I understand why it is difficult for you to distinguish between fair discipline and harm. Let’s say something happens again and you have an opportunity to walk away from it. Now that you know the right thing to do, if you still strike the first blow instead of going for help, you will have your bottom smacked. Anyone who provokes you into a fight would be punished as well, but I would rather you spare yourself the same. Do you understand what I mean by that?”

“Yes. I understand. I’m not really used to that now, but when I was smaller…well, Mama did that to me when I made her cross.” Lutha chewed his lower lip and looked away, briefly losing himself in the memories of one of the few people who had ever tried to keep him safe. He could still feel Bera’s arms around him and smell her comforting scent of freshly rained on earth. When he took a deep breath and looked back across the table, Feredir was waiting patiently. “Now if I was going to be punished there I’d expect something like a belt or a whip or a stick,” Lutha admitted.

“No belts, no whips. I promise. Sticks…well, I suppose that depends on your definition of a stick but I expect we’re not thinking of the same kind,” Feredir replied. “Judicial birchings happen sometimes for serious offences, and switchings are a common way of formally handling misbehaviour as you experienced yesterday, but implements like a belt or a whip are far too difficult to keep under control. There are many safer things. I do possess a small wooden paddle and a leather house slipper, but they only rarely see use. I may be an Elder and on my second apprentice, but giving discipline does not come easily to me.” Feredir smiled ruefully at that. “Still, I will give it if I absolutely must.”

Lutha nodded in acceptance of the warning. “Why doesn’t it come easily to you?”

“Perhaps because my own youthful misadventures are fresh enough in my mind that I feel too much empathy with an elfling in trouble,” Feredir said dryly. “Many of my colleagues find it easier, so you would be wise to take more care around them. They are older, with much more experience than I can yet claim. As they would be all too happy to tell you, I am the youngest among our number. Rethedir still thinks of me as an elfling. But then, he thinks of most everyone as an elfling.”

“Because he’s ancient?” Lutha asked.

“Yes,” Feredir laughed reluctantly. “Just don’t tell him that to his face.”

“If he knows his age then it would hardly be a surprise, would it,” Lutha reasoned.

“I suppose not,” Feredir conceded with a soft chuckle as their food arrived.

The rest of the day was blissfully uneventful. Lutha didn’t see the older elflings again, although he heard later from a somewhat satisfied sounding Feredir that Master Rhuvendir had given the three of them a short strapping each for fighting outside his shop before marching them all home to their parents. Feredir had taken Lutha home after their lunch at the inn, and that evening after dinner, Healer Nestorion came by again to check on Lutha. He was dismayed to hear that Lutha had been in a fight, but he expressed only concern, and cast no judgement on his patient.

The next day would not have appeared eventful to an outsider looking in, but in Lutha’s mind it was _very_ eventful for the precise reason that absolutely nothing happened. He didn’t pack up his things and announce that he was leaving. He didn’t sneak away at first light. His intention to only stay for a day or two had never been pretend, but since then his resolve had wavered. He hadn’t yet been deprived of food, and Feredir had neither hurt him nor tried to make him do anything that he didn’t want to do. That could change, and in his heart Lutha knew that it would be unwise to let his guard too far down. But, while the instinctive urge to leave was always there, the pull to stay was even stronger.

On the third night, Lutha couldn’t sleep no matter how hard he tried. He finally gave up and changed out of his nightclothes into leggings and a tunic – his own, tailored properly and fitting perfectly – and after pulling on his boots and his new cloak, he made his way through the darkened house and slipped outside. To avoid detection by the dogs, and also because he was still nervous of them, Lutha walked the long way off Feredir’s property. He would just walk for a while and let himself be soothed by the night air, he thought, as he stepped onto the woodland path lit at intervals by lamps encased in glass.

Lutha had discovered that it was someone’s actual job to light the lamps every night and turn them off every morning. He had thought that it was probably quite an easy job to do, and that had given him hope that maybe there was something he could learn that wasn’t thieving. But when he had said so to Feredir, the Elder had laughed sympathetically and explained that there was a little more to it than just turning lamps on and off every day. The lamps had to be maintained and kept clean, and repaired when they broke, and the elves who did such things were usually masters in a wider craft. Still, Feredir had promised Lutha that there would be plenty of things that he could learn – and plenty of time, too.

When Lutha had been walking for half an hour (and trying to find his way back for ten minutes of that, though he was reluctant to admit that he was lost), he noticed someone up ahead. He caught his breath and immediately regretted it, because the tall figure immediately turned to face him. They stared at one another through the darkness, and then the figure strode towards Lutha, sweeping the hood of his cloak back as he closed the distance between them.

“Elfling. What are you doing out of bed?”

“Walking,” Lutha snapped, exhaling in relief as Elder Faelind stopped in front of him. “What are _you_ doing out of bed? Other than scaring people.”

“Walking,” Faelind replied sardonically. “It is my custom to walk by the light of the moon. Elflings are usually at home in bed.”

“Good for them,” Lutha said. “Why do you walk at night? Don’t you think that’s creepy?”

Faelind looked at the elfling in inscrutable silence, his green eyes cold in the starlight. “Never mind about my midnight habits, little boy. I am more concerned by yours. Feredir would never allow you to walk unattended so late at night. Are you running away?”

“I’m not running away,” Lutha said, offended.

“Ah. Then you are simply not polite enough to inform your guardian that you wish to partake in night time wanderings,” Faelind remarked.

“No. I’m sorry if you thought that I was. Well, I’m not sorry,” Lutha admitted. “But I realise that _sorry_ is something you say here. Anyway, I was just going back to Elder Feredir’s.”

“Indeed. And where do you think Elder Feredir’s house is from here?” Faelind asked neutrally.

_Oh._ Lutha hesitated and looked around, and then he gestured vaguely. “That way.”

“Come, little boy,” Faelind commanded, striding in the opposite direction. “I will take you home. Elflings do not belong outside alone at night.”

Lutha couldn’t help breathing out in quiet relief as he was escorted along the path with Faelind’s hand resting firmly on his shoulder. The forest looked so different at night even with the lamps that he had got himself completely lost. There was no way that he would have been able to find the way back alone. He was certainly glad of Faelind’s help, although he thought that sneaking back in probably wouldn’t be an option. Faelind didn’t seem the type to approve of sneaking. Even if he had been, when they got back to Feredir’s house it was to see that the lights were on inside and the dogs were agitated. Lutha scowled at them. He bet one of them had given him up.

The front door opened just as they approached it, and Feredir stepped out in the middle of swinging his cloak around his shoulders. He froze at the sight of his older colleague with his young ward in tow. “Thank Eru,” he breathed then, the tension visibly melting away from him. “Lutha, you’re home.”

“I only went for a walk,” Lutha tried to explain. “I wasn’t running away.”

“No, I’m sure you weren’t,” Feredir replied, placing his hands on the elfling’s shoulders and squeezing lightly. “But I woke to the dogs barking and I checked and saw that you were gone. I was worried. If something should happen to you and we didn’t know where you were, how could we find you and help you? No more midnight wanderings, Lutha. None at all.”

“But nothing happened to me,” Lutha protested.

“And I am very grateful for that.” Feredir exhaled and shook his head, looking past Lutha at Faelind. “Thank you for bringing him back.”

“It was no trouble. Still, I suggest you make him aware of the consequences of walking the woods at night,” Faelind replied pointedly.

“I shall,” Feredir promised.

Lutha opened his mouth to awkwardly thank Faelind for helping to rescue him, but the Elder was already drawing his hood up and melting silently into the shadows as if he had never been there. Pushing Faelind from his mind, Lutha turned back to Feredir instead. “Does he want you to punish me?”

“Doubtful,” Feredir sighed, ushering the elfling back inside and closing the door behind them. “He’s hard but he operates on a _if you didn’t know it was wrong then how can we punish you_ policy. As do I. But I expect it won’t come as a surprise to you that if this does happen again, you will be getting your bottom smacked. With the slipper at the very least, since going about alone in the dark is dangerous.”

“Why are there a thousand rules here?” Lutha complained.

“Well, this particular rule exists for your safety,” Feredir replied. “As to the other nine hundred and ninety-nine, I’ll explain those when you break them.”

“Nine hundred and ninety-eight,” Lutha corrected the hunter. “I already broke the fighting rule.”

“All right, bratling. Nine hundred and ninety-eight,” Feredir agreed with a reluctant smile. “Now, you should be in bed. Do you need anything to help you fall asleep? Herbal tea, warm milk, anything like that?”

“I’d like a biscuit,” Lutha ventured.

Nodding to that, Feredir removed his cloak and slung it over the bannister before taking Lutha to the kitchen. He made short work of warming some milk with honey and a sprinkling of nutmeg, and after pouring two cups he took down the jar of biscuits and set it on the table in front of Lutha. “Have two,” he prompted the elfling, when Lutha took one.

“Thanks.” Lutha took a second biscuit but only ate one, automatically setting the other aside to take upstairs and hide for later. He wrapped his hands around his warm cup of milk then, and looked thoughtfully across the table. “Is it true that the forest is dangerous at night?”

“Well…on the whole it is safe,” Feredir admitted. “I don’t want you thinking that you’re not safe here. But there are dangers, Lutha. You don’t need me to tell you that not everyone is good, although generally the people of Greenwood _are_ good and terrible crime here is a rare thing. We live in harmony with the wild animals, but that may not matter if you came across a hungry wolf or a bear with a cub or a stag during mating season. In the dark you might stray off the path and trip over a root, or fall into a ravine, or you might-”

“I get it,” Lutha interjected. “Forest, night, dangerous, don’t do it. But why is Elder Faelind allowed to walk around in the dark? Someone should tell him that it’s not safe.”

Feredir hesitated, the usually cheerful light in his green eyes fading. “Faelind walks the wood at night to protect those who wander. As for why, that is his story to tell if he so chooses.”

“That’s really why he does it?” Lutha said doubtfully. “But he’s so…I mean, he’s not exactly…”

“What?” Feredir asked, his eyes lighting up again.

“Well, you know. He’s not a warrior,” Lutha replied. “He’s so cold and elegant. He’s a real lord, and he dresses so finely and he wears jewels and he’s just…I wouldn’t expect that of him.”

“Don’t assume,” Feredir gently chided his young charge. “Faelind _is_ warrior-trained. He was a Protector of Greenwood for longer than I have lived, and a Captain-Protector for some of that time as well, before circumstances set him on a different path. But Iike I said, it’s not my story. You’ll have to get to know him if you want to learn more.”

Lutha couldn’t help but feel that he was probably the last person in the world that Faelind would ever let in. “Does he ever sleep if he walks about at night?”

“He does, though it may not seem that way,” Feredir said with a wry smile. “But grown elves do not require as much sleep as elflings.”

“Is that true?” Lutha wondered aloud.

“It is. You are not full grown, so you still need a good amount of sleep every night,” Feredir said pointedly.

“I am starting to feel tired now. I suppose I should go to bed,” Lutha conceded.

Feredir rolled his eyes in fond exasperation. “A novel idea. Go on, elfling. I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t worry about getting up. Sleep in and I’ll make sure your breakfast is saved for you.”

“Do you promise?” Lutha asked quietly.

“I promise,” Feredir replied gently. “Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” Lutha whispered, and he was surprised to realise that he really did.


	5. Wolves of the North

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elder Feredir must pass a test if he is to fully earn Lutha’s trust, and events in the north have far-reaching consequences as Lutha finds his world turned upside down all over again.

The days passed and Lutha came to accept that there were not a thousand rules to live by in Greenwood. There were still a lot to remember. It felt like there was a new rule every day. Still, Feredir was always good about patiently explaining each rule to Lutha. He never hit, he never raised his voice, not even when Lutha lost his temper and snapped at him. He made sure that he explained the consequences for each broken rule as well should it be broken again in the future. Sometimes the consequences were loss of privileges (though never food or clothing), or an early bedtime, or being given a chore or some onerous task to complete. Other times the consequences that Feredir described were of a more physical nature. Not the beatings that Lutha had become accustomed to from an early age, and not even a switching like the one that Elder Rethedir had given him on his first day in the forest, but a simple smacked bottom just like Feredir had promised him if he fought again or went on any more midnight excursions.

Inwardly, Lutha scoffed at that. It was a little boy’s punishment. As much as he had grown to like Feredir, he thought it was silly that his guardian really believed that something so tame could ever serve as a deterrent. And yet…Lutha was curious. He couldn’t help it. Why _did_ Feredir think that it would make a difference? Was there something that he had failed to mention, something worse that he thought might scare Lutha off? Lutha didn’t want to upset Feredir. The hunter had been good to him – better, in fact, than Lutha had ever expected anyone to be. But he needed to know. He needed to see for himself sooner rather than later that this elf, who he had warmed to in a way that he hadn’t seen coming, would keep the promise that there were no more hits, no more kicks, no more bleeding.

That was why Lutha could be found wandering around town in the middle of the night exactly one week after his first night time foray. Even he had to question the wisdom of such a misadventure. But, he reasoned, as he sat on the edge of the gaily tinkling fountain and flicked water into the darkness, he knew the way back to Feredir’s house now even in the dark. He wouldn’t be lost. If Feredir kept his word and all he did was take Lutha across his knee, the elfling would only have to endure some mild discomfort before being allowed back to bed. And if Feredir _had_ been lying, if under all the smiles and kindness he was just like everyone else and Greenwood was no safer for Lutha than anywhere else…well. Better to know now than later.

Light spilled into the town square as the door of The Great Oak opened, letting out a snatch of music and the smell of roasting meat. A familiar ellon stepped out of the inn with his arm curled around the waist of an elleth with golden curls, and the two of them laughed as they kissed and headed for his home or hers. Well, well, Lutha thought, watching from the shadows. He’d had no idea that Nestorion was with someone. He hadn’t intended to see, but he still stored that piece of information away as something that might come in useful one day.

Just as Lutha started to give thought to making his way home, because surely it had been time enough for the dogs to rouse their master, movement on the far side of the square caught his eye. As if summoned there by thought alone, Feredir’s trio of hunting hounds appeared. They made straight for Lutha’s position and he froze, his blood running cold with fear. “Go away!” he commanded them, putting his hands out to try and keep the dogs at bay.

To his surprise, they halted a few feet away from him. Gar let out a few yips and Draug barked, while Carch just sat down and thumped his tail on the ground. Feredir swung down from the branches of a tree on the outskirts of the square and sprinted across to Lutha, knives at his waist and his bow and a quiver full of arrows on his back. “There you are!” he breathed. “I thought that we spoke about this running off already, Lutha.”

“I didn’t run off. I walked,” Lutha snapped. “You didn’t have to set your dogs on me!”

“I tasked them with finding you,” Feredir retorted, relief giving way to exasperation. “I was worried _again_ when I realised that you were gone.”

“Now you know where I am,” Lutha said irritably.

Feredir folded his arms over his chest and regarded the elfling under the moonlight. “Now I know. Do you remember what I told you would happen if there were any more of these night time wanderings?”

“No,” Lutha said under his breath.

“Really? You don’t remember how I told you very clearly that I would smack your bottom?” Feredir asked, his tone sharper than Lutha had ever heard it. “Come, Lutha. I don’t fancy starting your discipline in the middle of town in the middle of the night. I doubt that you would prefer it either.”

“I don’t care,” Lutha insisted bravely, but he still followed Feredir away from the fountain. He felt a little bad about talking back to Feredir – he had engineered the entire situation and brought it all on himself, after all – but the appearance of the hounds had put him on edge. Besides, Lutha didn’t think that a bit of pushing was necessarily a bad thing if it helped to prove a point one way or another.

When they got home, the dogs bounded around the side of the house to their kennel while Feredir marched Lutha straight inside and closed the door behind them. “I want to go to bed,” Lutha said suddenly, the words tumbling out of him before he could stop them. Despite his bravado, butterflies were starting to flit around deep in his stomach. Everything had been good before. What if this really did change it all? He should have just left things as they were, Lutha thought miserably. Stupid, he silently chided himself. Stupid, stupid. He didn’t want to discover that Feredir was anything other than what he had shown himself to be. And if Feredir did keep his word, if he was still good and honourable, then Lutha would have a whole host of other things to feel bad about. The elfling wished that he had never left his bed that night.

“You will go to bed,” Feredir agreed. “But we have something to take care of first.”

He led Lutha to his study, where a desk of polished cherry wood carved with elaborate forest-inspired designs was positioned in front of a window overlooking the back garden. The bookshelves and the frame of the settee on the far side of the room matched it. Soft green cushions lined the settee, and a blanket of white and green wool worked into beautiful patterns of leaves and flowers was draped over the back of it. “I don’t want to,” Lutha protested.

“Fair enough,” Feredir said. “I never liked it either when I was on the receiving end.”

“Then you should just let me go to bed,” Lutha snapped, his panic rising.

“No. I told you that there are consequences for your actions,” Feredir replied, in his usual calm voice. He opened the second drawer of his desk and took out a soft and pliable leather house slipper. Lutha had already been shown the slipper, and Alphros had told him in a hushed voice that it had once belonged to Feredir’s predecessor which was why its hue was so faded. Lutha had stopped listening when Alphros had tried to guess how many wayward apprentices’ bottoms the slipper had seen use on.

“I’ll bite you,” Lutha said out loud, sounding inspired.

“By all means try,” Feredir allowed, removing the elfling’s cloak from around his shoulders before leading him over to the settee.

“I shall,” Lutha agreed.

Feredir nodded calmly and seated himself in the centre of the settee, setting the slipper aside before drawing Lutha down over his lap. He let down the loose leggings that Lutha had worn to bed and ignored the way that his ward growled wordlessly at him. “I am going to use my hand first,” he cautioned, draping his left arm over Lutha’s back. “That will prepare you for the slipper, and I will warn you before I switch to it.” Suiting deed to word, he began warming Lutha’s bare bottom with firm but not severe smacks from the palm of his hand.

“Good luck using your hand once I’ve bitten it off,” Lutha mumbled, burying his face in his arms.

“Elfling teeth are not made for biting hands off,” Feredir replied.

Lutha squirmed and made a sound of discomfort. “My teeth are.”

Simply hmm-ing to that, Feredir concentrated on smacking Lutha’s pale bottom to a rosy shade of pink while the elfling wriggled ineffectually and tearfully whispered to himself about what he wanted to do to the Elder’s hand. Feredir paid him no attention, and nothing that Lutha said made him speak sharply or spank any harder. He just kept on at a steady pace, mostly focused on warming Lutha’s bottom cheeks though occasionally he would deliver some stinging smacks to his unhappy charge’s sensitive spots.

When a couple of minutes had passed, Feredir paused. “It’s time for the slipper now,” he warned, picking it up and lightly resting the leather implement across Lutha’s bottom.

“It’s not,” Lutha protested miserably, and he reached back to try and remove the slipper.

Feredir moved the elfling’s hand and pinned it gently to the small of Lutha’s back. Lutha tried to pull his arm free but he couldn’t as Feredir exerted careful strength over him. That careful strength extended to the way that Feredir wielded the slipper as well, as he drew it back and let the leather sole smack firmly against Lutha’s bottom. Lutha almost felt surprised when he started to cry. He hadn’t lied about anything that he had endured before coming to Greenwood. He _had_ felt much worse than this, and much worse than the switching from his first day too, and sometimes he had even taken it without shedding a tear. And yet here he was, bare bottomed over Feredir’s knee, crying like a little boy as the slipper landed.

Half a dozen more smacks and it was done. Feredir put the slipper aside and released Lutha’s pinned wrist before carefully fixing his clothing. As he got his hand back, Lutha buried his face in it and cried hidden tears. “It _hurts!_ ”

“I know,” Feredir said sympathetically, as he drew Lutha up to kneel at his side on the settee. “It will go away. You haven't been cut. You’re not bruised or scarred. You’ll go back to sleep tonight with a warmed bottom but that’s all. You are safe, little one.”

“But why am I c-crying?” Lutha demanded. “I should h-have been able to take that.”

“There’s no _should_ about these things. It isn’t about bravery or toughness, or how hard something is physically. It’s all in the emotions,” Feredir said gently. “When was the last time you were taken over someone’s knee for a smacking?”

Lutha exhaled and scrubbed tears from his face with a shaking hand. “I got hurt a lot of other ways. That…what you just did…not for a long time.”

“Maybe it was being in that position again,” Feredir suggested. “You have become used to being treated cruelly, Lutha. You are familiar with kicks and hard blows, which I hope you are starting to understand will not happen to you here. Only carefully measured discipline will be given. But the position that you must put yourself in to receive that discipline is more…” Feredir hesitated as if he had decided against saying something. “Personal,” he finished.

“What were you going to say?” Lutha asked quietly.

Feredir gave the elfling a searching look. “Intimate. I thought that was not the right word to use for you.”

“Oh. I don’t know what it means anyway,” Lutha said. “Personal is better. I understand that. This…going over someone’s knee…Mama would punish me like that. Then she died.”

“She must have wanted to keep you close,” Feredir ventured.

“Yes, she did. She always tried to protect me from Father. If he was angry with me, she would ask permission to punish me for him,” Lutha recalled. “He didn’t always let her. But if he did, even though I’d still get punished it was better coming from her because there was never any blood and nothing in me ever broke. Then at the end she would hug me and sing to me, and…and I miss her.”

Slipping one arm around Lutha’s shoulders, Feredir drew him into a hug. “I am truly sorry that she died, Lutha.”

“It’s what humans do,” Lutha said distantly.

“Yes. But that doesn’t make it any easier. I think that being disciplined that way made you think of your mama, and you cried more easily because of that,” Feredir said. “It is all right to remember, and it is all right to have feelings. We can talk through them together whenever you like.”

Lutha nodded quietly, rubbing his teary eyes with the back of his hand. “But I don’t want to talk about it anymore now. I want to go to bed.”

“Yes, bed is where you should be at night,” Feredir said, giving the elfling a wry smile as he helped him up. He was silent as he led Lutha out of the study and upstairs, but as they walked down the darkened hallway together, he spoke softly, careful not to disturb Alphros who lay abed in the apprentice quarters. “One thing that we should talk about is your biting, Lutha.”

“I’ve never bitten anybody here,” Lutha said quickly. “Well…Raegalas and his friends. But don’t you think they deserved that?”

“I think Elder Rethedir and Elder Faelind would have me cutting a switch for myself if I endorsed biting,” Feredir replied dryly. “I know you haven't bitten anyone who hasn’t hurt you first, Lutha. Still, you threaten it quite a lot.”

“Do you want me to stop doing that?” Lutha asked warily.

As they reached Lutha’s room, Feredir made a thoughtful _hmmm_ sort of sound. “I want to understand why you do it,” he said finally, turning the lamp halfway up so that it cast a cosy light around.

“Oh. Um, if you threaten to bite someone they usually back off. They either think you’re crazy or they’re scared that you’ll make them get sick,” Lutha replied. “If you threaten to fight then you’re probably going to have to follow through with it. That doesn’t always turn out so well when you’re small or outnumbered.”

“I suppose not,” Feredir conceded. “But Lutha, ignoring the incident with Raegalas and his friends, do you feel like you have been in situations dangerous enough that you may need to bite?”

Lutha shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other before trying to hide it by leaning down to remove the shoes that he had worn out into the forest. “At first, yes. Before I knew anyone. Now…no, I guess not? But you know when you say things or you do things without even thinking about it? It just happens before you can stop it. I don’t know the word.”

“Instinct,” Feredir murmured.

“Yes. That’s it,” Lutha agreed. He chewed his lower lip and got into bed, settling on his side with a grimace of discomfort. “I’m sorry, Feredir. I’m not just saying that because I think you want to hear it. I really am sorry that I made trouble for you tonight. And I’m sorry about the biting. Well, the not-biting. The threats to bite. If you want me to stop, I will.”

“You’ll just stop naturally when the time is right, Lutha,” Feredir said softly. “For now, as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone, do whatever you feel you need to do.”

“Thank you,” Lutha whispered.

Feredir just smiled and nodded. “Now, sleep. And don’t worry about getting up early tomorrow. I’ll save breakfast for you.”

“I didn’t even think about asking that,” Lutha said, surprised.

“Well, then that is good progress indeed,” Feredir replied fondly.

It was. And it continued day after day as Lutha became more and more settled in the place that he had only intended to stay for a day or two. No more did he feel the urge to hide food away, because no more did he doubt where his next meal would come from. No more did he bare his teeth in warning or flinch at a raised hand (though sudden movements were still a work in progress) and he no longer feared any of his treasured possessions or his new clothes being taken away from him. He was as close to Feredir as he had been to his favourite human brother, and he had even developed a cautious friendship with Alphros. He had a way to go until he knew all the Elders well, for they were many and Lutha still found some of them a little intimidating, but Nithaniel visited him often and Feredir had taken him to meet Galawen and Lavaneth. Galawen had started teaching him about all the different plants and herbs that could be found in the forest, while Lavaneth had let him play with her menagerie of animals and promised him that he was welcome there any time. Elder Faelind didn’t seem inclined to have anything to do with Lutha, which Lutha didn’t mind at all, but Elder Rethedir had visited one time, bringing with him a gift of paints and fine paper. Lutha was still secretly in awe of the ancient elf, but he had accepted the gift as Rethedir’s way of moving on from their first unpleasant encounter. Greenwood had become…well, home, of a sort.

Now it was one month to the day since Lutha had been caught and tried by the Elders. In all that time he had never seen Feredir angry – annoyed at the most, and that had only been after Lutha’s second midnight excursion – but as the former thief ate breakfast, his guardian strode into the kitchen with his usually cheerful expression replaced by one so dark that it immediately caught Lutha’s attention. Lutha couldn’t help but be on his guard, tightening his grip around his knife and fork as he watched Feredir warily from under his lashes.

“Word has come to me from the northern settlements,” Feredir announced, his voice as grim as his face. “Wild wolves have descended from the Northern Waste and the Grey Mountains. I must ride to the hunt with the Sons of Araw to aid our northern kin before the beasts savage any more of our people.”

“The sons of who?” Lutha asked.

“My guild. The foresters and hunters,” Feredir elaborated with an impatient gesture as he started pulling food from the cupboards and wrapping it in cloth. “Araw is known as Oromë by some, the Lord of Trees and Master Huntsman. As the leader of our guild and Elder of the Hunt, I must do as he would. Lutha, you know this.”

Lutha knew it. Feredir had told him about it. He had simply wanted to buy time before asking a question that he dreaded the answer to. “Are you taking me with you?”

“I can’t do that. It is a long journey to the northern borders, and at times it can be perilous even without the threat of wild wolves,” Feredir replied. “You will stay with one of the other Elders while I am gone.”

“But I don’t want to,” Lutha protested. “I live here.”

Sighing heavily, Feredir dropped the block of cheese that he had removed from the cool cupboard and went around the table to Lutha instead. “Yes, you do,” he agreed, leaning down to wrap an arm around the elfling. “You will always have a room in my house. When I come back, I will bring you home.”

“If I’m still here,” Lutha retorted, shrugging his guardian off.

“If you are still here,” Feredir agreed softly. “I’m sorry, Lutha. I have duties and sometimes they will take me far from home. I can’t help that. But I will do my best to come back as quickly as possible.”

“So where will I go?” Lutha asked quietly.

“Elder Nithaniel has asked for you to stay with her for now,” Feredir said. “The youth of the wood are her responsibility. You will do well with her.”

Yes, Elder Nithaniel had the care of the forest’s young. Orphans and fosterlings were her purview. The abandoned, the unwanted, the unloved, they all ended up with Nithaniel. His heart sinking, Lutha pushed his still half-full plate away and sat back with a flicker of defeat in his grey eyes. “If you really cared about finding me still here when you come home, you would just let me stay while you’re on the hunt. You wouldn’t send me away.”

“It is _because_ I care about you that I am sending you away,” Feredir said gently. “It would be irresponsible of me to leave you alone. Alphros will be going to Nithaniel as well. He is too new an apprentice to accompany me on this trip. And when I return, I will bring both you and him back here where you belong. I swear it.”

“Fine,” Lutha whispered. “I have to pack.”

“I will miss you, Lutha. Especially if you are gone when I come home.” Feredir rested a hand atop the elfling’s head. “May you be well, wherever your path may take you.”

Lutha tolerated the touch for a few seconds before brushing Feredir’s hand off and pushing his chair back with a scrape of wood on stone. He stalked out of the kitchen, and his hands shook when he reached his bedroom and began pulling clothes out of the wardrobe. He tried to stop breathing hard, tried to be calm, but he couldn’t help the prick of tears in his eyes.

The truth was that he was scared. Scared of being uprooted when it had taken him so much to start trusting, scared of going to a new place with new people who wouldn’t understand him like Feredir did. Feredir made him feel safe and even…well, Lutha shied away from ever using _loved_. That was a dangerous word. But cared for and appreciated, certainly. He would miss sitting in front of the fire with a plate of biscuits while Feredir regaled him with tales of their people from whom Lutha had been sundered for so long. He would miss the way that Alphros smiled encouragingly at him when he asked tentative questions. Alphros had never begrudged spending the evenings listening to stories that he already knew by heart; it seemed to bring him joy as Lutha learned about their people. Now everything was going to change, and Lutha wasn’t ready for it. He didn’t even know how to put his whirling thoughts into words. They were just a tangle of feelings and emotions. Feredir probably thought him angry and ungrateful, he thought with a flash of anguish, when he was just the most afraid that he had been in weeks.

As Lutha struggled to fold one of his tunics to put in his new travel pack, he heard a knock at his bedroom door. “What,” he managed to choke out, dashing tears from his cheeks.

The door opened and Feredir stepped inside, a forest green cloak hanging from his shoulders and leather vambraces clasped around his forearms. His bow and arrows were on his back, their quiver and its straps elegantly tooled with a pattern of leaves and vines. “Lutha.” The hunter spoke so intently that Lutha felt like he had no choice but to stop what he was doing and focus on him. “I have something for you,” Feredir said, reaching into the pocket of his tunic and drawing out a silk pouch. “This was given to me by my former master when I became an Elder. It has guarded me well since then, but I want you to have it now. He said that I would know the right time to pass it on.”

Slowly accepting the pouch, Lutha opened it and tipped it upside down, and a golden chain fell into the palm of his hand. On it was a pale golden stone that shone clear in the sunlight streaming through the window. Caught within the stone and perfectly preserved was a small insect, iridescent wings outstretched. Lutha stared at it, unsure what he was meant to say. “Why is now the right time?” he asked finally.

Feredir took the chain and slipped it over Lutha’s head so that the pendant hung around the elfling’s neck. “It just felt right,” he replied. “In case you do go away. I don’t want you to leave us, but if you must, the power of the amber will keep you safe on your travels.”

“What about the dead bug?” Lutha said quietly.

“This amber is not the stone of the ground,” Feredir explained. “It is born of tree sap, the blood of a living tree, which hardened into stone long ago. The insect was caught in the sap before it hardened. It symbolises the importance of animals and plants dwelling together, and the wood that I guard. Take it, and keep it as a promise that whatever you do, I shall always be with you, gwador-laes. Whether you go or stay, you are in my heart.”

Lutha was silent, his eyes lowered and his hand curled around the pendant resting on his chest. Finally, he took a deep breath. “You really want me to stay?”

“I do. You have become as a little brother to me,” Feredir said softly. “I want you to be safe and happy. If leaving is what makes you happy, you must go, but I will pray every day that you do not.”

Almost before he realised what he was doing, Lutha was blinking back tears and nodding. “I’ll stay with Elder Nithaniel until you come back. I won’t run.”

“Good, Lutha,” Feredir said, exhaling softly in relief as he pulled his ward in for a hug. “I will come home as soon as I can. I promise.”

“Good luck with the wolves,” Lutha replied quietly. “I hope you don’t get eaten.”

“Oh, _now_ you hope I don’t get eaten? That’s progress,” Feredir laughed. He drew back with a smile and fondly tapped Lutha’s nose, before an expression of grim determination settled on his fair face as if the task that lay ahead had suddenly rushed back to the forefront of his mind. And just like that he was gone, striding from the room with the hem of his cloak whipping at his heels.

Feeling bereft, Lutha touched the amber pendant with a deep sigh. He heard the sound of Feredir’s silver hunting horn being blown to summon those hunters who would ride north with their young leader, and he went to the window in time to see Feredir galloping away on his bay stallion closely followed by the hunting hounds. Well, that was that. Feredir was gone, Lutha thought wistfully, as he finished his packing.

When Lutha went downstairs, he hesitated in the entrance hall before turning back to the kitchen so that he could pack some food. It was true that he hardly ever thought about hiding food now, but he didn’t know Nithaniel like he knew Feredir. She was nice, but Lutha would wait until he was more comfortable around her before believing that the food arrangements would be the same at her house. Part of him said that was stupid, of course they would be the same. Another part of him told that first part to shut up, he hadn’t survived as long as he had by trusting people before they had proven themselves to him. The first part wisely stayed silent after that, and left Lutha alone as he helped himself to the food that Feredir had left behind.

“You don’t have to do that, you know.”

“I’m doing it anyway so you might as well let me,” Lutha replied, glancing up from where he was wrapping a sandwich in cloth.

Standing by the door with his hands shoved in his pockets, Alphros shrugged. “I won’t stop you. I have some things to finish up here for Elder Feredir. Do you want to wait for me and we can go to Elder Nithaniel’s together?”

“Actually I could do with some time to clear my head,” Lutha replied. He rolled his eyes as Alphros hesitated. “You’ll see me at Elder Nithaniel’s. I’m not leaving.”

“Promise me,” Alphros instructed.

“I promise I’m not going to run away,” Lutha replied dutifully. “Happy?”

Alphros nodded doubtfully. “I suppose so. See you at Elder Nithaniel’s then.”

“See you there,” Lutha agreed. He hoisted his pack onto his shoulders and went outside to ready his horse. She was a placid mare that Feredir had got from Elder Lavaneth just for Lutha. The elfling had thought long and hard about what to call her, and in the end he had decided on Horse because he had been afraid of having her taken away, so he hadn’t wanted to name her properly and get too attached. It had since become clear that nobody was going to take her away and that she was his now, but even so she was still called Horse. The name had just stuck.

Horse walked slowly along the woodland path, stopping every once in a while to let a family of rabbits or a fluffy-tailed squirrel scamper in front of her. Boughs laden with green leaves shaded the path, and dappled morning sunlight shone down through them. “We could run away, Horse,” Lutha said idly, after a little while. He wasn’t serious about it, but he was interested to see if his companion had any thoughts on the matter.

With a disapproving snort, Horse halted and planted her hooves. “It was a joke,” Lutha told her. “Don’t take things so seriously.”

Horse looked around and nudged his knee with her long nose before starting to plod on again. Birds were singing and the walk was pleasant, and she seemed unconcerned about where they went as long as it wasn’t running away. Finally, Lutha accepted that he couldn’t put it off any longer. He turned Horse in the direction of Elder Nithaniel’s house, and she picked up the pace with a pleased flick of her tail.

“Welcome, Lutha,” Nithaniel said with a gentle smile, when Lutha and Horse came to a halt in front of her. She had been waiting outside to meet her newest charge, her silver hair rippling in the sunlight and her hands clasped at her waist. The sleeves of her sea green gown were slit at the shoulders, leaving her arms bare, the diaphanous fabric lifting gently on the breeze. Atop her head she wore a circlet of white flowers that Lutha supposed had been made by one of the elflings in her care, and a necklace of turquoise and gold hung around her neck. “I am glad to have you here,” she added.

Lutha shrugged awkwardly as he dismounted. “I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“No. It was difficult for Feredir to go north and leave you, though he would not see you taken into danger. I can only imagine how you must feel,” Nithaniel said sympathetically.

“I told him I hope he doesn’t get eaten,” Lutha offered.

“That is a nice change,” Nithaniel replied with a silvery laugh.

A stable hand came to take Horse, and Lutha waved goodbye to her before looking up at the house with a quiet sigh. Built on two levels and of pale brick with a grey slate roof, it was surrounded by fishponds and colourful gardens with a paddock where half a dozen tiny ponies grazed in company with a few bigger horses. Lutha moved his pack onto his other shoulder and followed Nithaniel through the front door and into a marble-floored entrance hall that smelled sweetly of orchids. Directly opposite the front door on the other side of the entrance hall was another closed door, though it was to the room on the left that Nithaniel took Lutha for the start of their tour. That was the living room, its walls lined with bookcases and shelves stacked with puzzles and games. Soft rugs to sit or lie upon covered the floor, and a wide bay window facing out to the front garden had a comfortable window seat with cushions for curling up on. There were toy chests and cosy chairs and pots of paint, and stuffed animals including a bear that was as tall as Lutha himself. It was the sort of place that would have seemed like paradise to Lutha once upon a time.

“How many others are staying here at the moment?” he asked, as they left the living room.

Nithaniel had moved further into the entrance hall, and she paused at the closed door with her hand resting lightly on the handle. “Around a dozen elflings including you and Alphros,” she replied. “The littlest ones are in the nursery and the rest are at lessons or conducting private study. It is not always this quiet. Shall we continue?”

Quite sure that he couldn’t imagine anything more grating than the place being full of screaming children, Lutha summoned a half-hearted smile and followed Nithaniel as she opened the door and stepped out of the entrance hall. His eyes immediately widened and he caught his breath. He had expected to walk down a hallway into the rest of the house, but instead he was standing on a paved walkway that ran all around an interior courtyard. The walkway itself was sheltered by a roof held up by sandstone columns, while the courtyard was open to the elements and covered with sand where elflings had sat and drawn patterns. In each corner stood fragrant orange trees in large ceramic pots.

As they walked clockwise on the path around the courtyard, Nithaniel pointed out the doors that led to different rooms; the dining room, the kitchen, the schoolroom, the art room, the quiet room, her study, and the baths which she said were gently heated with warm water from one of the natural hot springs dotted throughout the forest. From there they went up a wide staircase to the top floor where another walkway circled the courtyard from on high. Nithaniel’s private quarters and the nursery faced each other from opposite ends of the courtyard, while a selection of single and shared double and even triple rooms with private bathing chambers between them ran along the length of the upper floor on both sides. Lutha was relieved to see that the room set aside for him only had one bed in it. He didn’t think he could have coped if he’d had to share.

“It should be nearing time for lunch when you have finished unpacking,” Nithaniel said. “You are more than welcome to take it downstairs with me and the other elflings, but I quite understand if you would prefer to eat alone for now.”

“I’ll eat in here,” Lutha replied, setting his pack down on a carved chest at the foot of the bed. “If that’s all right.”

“It is perfectly all right,” Nithaniel promised.

She didn’t impose on Lutha for long before leaving him alone to unpack and get settled in while she went to check on her various charges. Unpacking didn’t take long. As if leaving some of his belongings behind had been a promise that he would return to Feredir’s house soon, Lutha hadn’t brought everything with him. He sat on the edge of the bed and bounced up and down a little, testing it. The mattress seemed to be a little softer than the one that he had become used to, he thought, looking around and taking everything in from the pale blue curtains at the window to the mural of a woodland waterfall painted on the opposite wall. It was pretty, but it wasn’t what he had started to think of as home. _Damn those wolves_ , he thought, lying back with a sigh and staring up at the ceiling until a knock on the door disturbed him.

“Lutha? It’s me, Alphros. I brought lunch for you.”

Lutha got up, pushing back strands of dark hair that had come loose and fallen into his eyes. He opened his mouth to greet Alphros as he pulled the door open, but instead he stopped and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Standing next to Alphros was another elfling, tall and slender with braided brown hair and dark blue eyes. He was looking at Lutha with both curiosity and disapproval in his gaze. Lutha stared right back. He had no intention of breaking the silence first – nor of looking away first, he thought stubbornly.

“Hello, Lutha,” Alphros said with his customary cheerfulness back in place now that he knew Lutha hadn’t run away. “This is my roommate Galad. He wanted to meet you.”

“Galadaelin Thranorion,” the brown haired elfling said pointedly.

Alphros snorted under his breath as he carried the lunch tray into the room and set it down. “Try and be nice, Galad. Lutha’s only just got here.”

“Lutha. An odd name,” Galad observed. “What’s it short for?”

“It’s short for thanks for the food but mind your own business,” Lutha said.

That made Galad’s cheeks flush an interesting shade of pink. “That’s not funny,” he snapped.

Lutha shrugged. “Sorry.”

“You’re not. You’re antisocial. Why are you hiding up here?” Galad demanded. “Do you think you’re too good for us?”

“Elder Nithaniel said that I could take lunch here,” Lutha replied. “So I’m taking lunch here. Goodbye.”

“Oh, fine. Be that way,” Galad retorted, stalking out of the room with an irritated toss of his brown braids.

Alphros rolled his eyes skywards. “Sorry, Lutha. I don’t control him. I’m just sharing a room with him.”

“Poor you,” Lutha offered.

“I guess. He’s just…” Alphros paused, searching for the right words. “Not good at making friends, really. He wants to be a healer. I met him a few months ago when our fathers sent us south together. My apprenticeship was already in place, and Galad had orders to report to the Temple to be healer-trained. His aunt serves there and his older brother is training with the Protectors. I guess his father wanted him some place he could be watched over. But nothing will do for Galad but that he gets taught by Elder Nestaeth, so here he is until she finally agrees to take him on. I think she’s making him wait to prove how badly he wants it. Anyway, he’s so focused on his studies that he doesn’t really have time for friends. He seems to be trying to memorise every book Elder Nithaniel has on healing before he even starts just so he can be the best.”

“Fair enough,” Lutha replied. He sat down at the round table by the window and studied the tray of food that Alphros had brought for him. After a moment, he popped a cherry tomato into his mouth. Despite his initial suspicion over cherry tomatoes, he had developed quite a taste for them. “Do you think that I should give Horse a better name?” he asked idly. 

Alphros looked surprised by the question, and then he lifted his shoulders slightly. “If you both like it and she answers to Horse, that’s all that’s important. It isn’t a bad name.”

“But it’s just what she is,” Lutha said. “Too bad she’s not a boy horse. I could name her after Galad.”

“That’s not a boy name or a girl name. It just means _light_ ,” Alphros pointed out.

“Oh. Well, I guess she’s called Galad now,” Lutha decided. “She deserves a real name.”

“All right. But maybe don’t tell Galad. Elf-Galad,” Alphros clarified with a roll of his eyes.

Eventually Lutha decided that Horse-Galad and Elf-Galad was a bit too much, so he settled on calling his horse Amber after the pendant that Feredir had given him. After finishing his lunch, a small portion of which he hid in the bedside table for later, Lutha went outside to wander around the gardens. He came across a tree swing hanging from the bough of an old oak, and he swung idly back and forth on the piece of weathered wood until a trio of younger elflings ran out from the schoolroom practically falling over each other as they raced to the swing. Their curious stares and the prospect of being questioned was enough to send Lutha back to the safety of his room. Still, when the bell rang for dinner some hours later, he summoned the courage to take the evening meal with Nithaniel and all her other charges.

That was a mistake.

Seated around the table were a dozen other elflings. The two smallest were knee-height on Nithaniel, and the others ranged in age with Lutha somewhere in the middle along with Alphros and Galad. The little children argued with one another, and one of them knocked over a cup of apple and strawberry cordial, which made a small red-haired girl cry when it spilled on her dress. Alphros told jokes and pulled funny faces to make the other elflings laugh while Galad just gritted his teeth and Nithaniel calmly kept the peace, and all Lutha wanted was to put his hands over his ears and block it all out. In the end he turned down dessert and went back to his room early. He had a headache and he wanted to sleep. Besides, there was still the food that he had put away earlier that day.

Except, there wasn’t. When Lutha had bathed and changed into his nightclothes, and he opened the top drawer of the bedside table to have one of the biscuits from his stash, what he saw there made him freeze. It was gone. Everything was gone. The biscuits, the two apples, the handful of nuts, the sandwich from lunch…there wasn’t even a crumb left. Instead there was a small bottle of oil and a scrap of paper with something written on it in swirling black ink. Furious and fighting a rising tide of fear, Lutha snatched up both the bottle and the paper, and he stormed out of his room to the one that Alphros was sharing with Galad. So violently did he shove open the door that it hit the wall, making Alphros freeze in the middle of pulling a night tunic over his head while Galad dropped the book that he had been reading.

“It was you, wasn’t it!” Lutha shouted.

Galad blinked twice. “You’re welcome.”

“Is this your idea of a joke? What am I meant to do with this?” Lutha flung the bottle of oil at Galad, who snatched it out of the air before it could smash. “What did you do with my food?”

“It says on the paper, obviously,” Galad huffed impatiently. “You drip the oil on your pillow. The scent will help you sleep. And you can’t keep food in your room, it’s against the rules because it could attract ants. I didn’t want you to get in trouble at room inspection. So again, you’re welcome,” he added pointedly.

“You should have told me! This is no good to me!” Lutha snapped, throwing the paper to the floor.

Alphros hastily finished pulling his night tunic over his head, and he smoothed it down before going to Lutha and embracing him. “Galad didn’t know that you can’t read,” he said softly. “It’s all right. He was trying to help. He wasn’t trying to be mean.”

Not hearing the quiet words, Galad stared between the other boys. “What do you mean it’s no good to you? You can’t read it?”

“No, I can’t read it.” Lutha shrugged Alphros off and took an angry step closer to Galad. “I can’t read. What of it?”

“How was I supposed to know?” Galad demanded.

Lutha stared at him, breathing hard. “What did you do with my food? Give it back.”

“I gave the apples to your horse, and I put the nuts and biscuits out for the birds and animals that come into the garden,” Galad replied defiantly. “I threw the sandwich out. None of it would be any good to you sitting in a drawer.”

“Not if I just left it there, but I was going to eat it!” With a growl of frustration, Lutha kicked out at the nearest chair. It toppled over, making Alphros flinch. “The food was mine for if I got hungry and I couldn’t get any more food. Now I have nothing. I have nothing to eat and it’s your fault!”

“Just go to the kitchen and get more then!” Galad exploded. “It’s not that difficult!”

“ _Boys_.”

Galad stiffened and Alphros froze, but Lutha turned on his heel and tried to run past Elder Nithaniel. He didn’t know how long she had been standing in the doorway. She shifted an inch to the right, blocking his path, and reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. “Lutha,” she said, very gently. The sound of his name made the elfling stop, and he looked up at Nithaniel, his grey eyes awash with tears. Nithaniel just smiled kindly at him and shook her head slightly. “You have been hiding food your whole life, haven't you? I expect that it was the first thing you ever learned how to do and now you don’t even think about it. You just do it because how can you so easily let go of something that has helped you to survive all this time? I understand, Lutha. Truly. You are not alone in this moment though you may feel it.”

“He was hiding food less and less at Elder Feredir’s house,” Alphros spoke up softly. “Most days not even at all. But…”

“But this is not Elder Feredir’s house. This is a new house with new people, and I have not yet been able to prove myself as Feredir did,” Nithaniel said. “Lutha, I promise you that you will have three meals a day and that you may help yourself to food from the kitchen if you are hungry between meals. But, until you learn to trust me as you trust Feredir, I will look the other way from this hiding of food. Do what you need to do. Nobody will hold it against you.”

“Do you promise?” Lutha whispered.

“I promise,” Nithaniel replied with a gentle smile.

“I’m sorry,” Galad ventured quietly. “I didn’t realise. I mean, I still don’t understand. But clearly it wasn’t the right thing to do. It won’t happen again.”

Lutha took a deep breath and slowly let it out before turning to face the other boy. “You tried to do a good thing. I’m sorry I lost my temper.”

“You don’t have to be.” Galad held out the bottle of oil that he had left in Lutha’s bedside table. “Take this. I find it difficult to sleep in a new place but the oil helped me.”

“He made it himself,” Alphros said. “It’s really good.”

“Thank you,” Lutha whispered, accepting the bottle.

Nithaniel gave Alphros and Galad a reassuring smile before putting her hand on Lutha’s shoulder and guiding him back to his own room. He couldn’t help but still feel on edge, shaken by all that had happened, and as Nithaniel softly bade him goodnight and left him alone to sleep, he miserably accepted that it was going to be a long night. But, the smell of lavender on his pillow coaxed him into a restful slumber, and his first night away from home was spent deeply asleep.


	6. Another New Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lutha makes a decision that sees him entering the very last place in Greenwood that he would expect to step foot.

Three days passed.

Lutha had needed less time than that to decide that he didn’t want to stay with Elder Nithaniel, but he had thought that telling her immediately would be rude. The fact that he even cared about not causing offence seemed strange. He supposed that Feredir would call it progress. Still, Lutha surmised that three days was enough time for Nithaniel to believe that he had given it careful consideration and that he wasn’t rushing into anything. That was why, when the smaller elflings ran off to lessons after breakfast and the older ones went to their studies or to enjoy free time, Lutha approached Nithaniel.

“I have to talk to you about something,” he said abruptly.

“That sounds quite serious,” Nithaniel replied, guiding Lutha outside to the peace of the gardens.

“Feredir always said that if I needed help with something, I should say instead of keeping it to myself. So I’m saying, because if I don’t say then I’ll just run away and I don’t want to do that.” Lutha glared at Nithaniel as if daring her to say _I told you so._ When she only gave him a calm nod of encouragement, he took a deep breath. “You’re very kind. Your house is very nice. But I can’t stay here.”

“Why do you say that?” Nithaniel asked gently.

Their path was taking them around the outside of the house and past the schoolroom. Through the open window they heard the sounds of elflings shrieking with laughter. “That,” Lutha said, grimacing. “It’s too much for me. It’s so loud after Feredir’s house. But not just that. The little elflings want me to help them with their reading and I can’t. The older ones give me strange looks and they ask me questions about why I’m here and where I came from. I feel like all I want to do is shut myself away in my room and lock the door. It wasn’t like that with Feredir.”

“Nor should it be like that,” Nithaniel said. “My home is open to all children in need but that doesn’t mean that it is the right fit for all. I am pleased that you told me, Lutha.”

“You’re not upset?” Lutha asked.

Nithaniel’s hair shone in the sunlight as she shook her head and gave him a reassuring smile. “Not at all. We will figure out where you are best suited to until Feredir returns. You may certainly have a say in where you go, but I can tell you that I believe Elder Faelind would be an excellent choice. He lives alone and he has no apprentice at present, nor does he intend to take one for the foreseeable future, so his house is certainly the quietest right now.”

“I don’t like Elder Faelind,” Lutha said flatly. “And he doesn’t like me.”

“How do you know you don’t like each other?” Nithaniel asked evenly.

The question caught Lutha off guard. “Because…because I’m a thief and he’s a…” Lutha hesitated, searching for the right word. “Law person,” he said finally. “I break the law and Elder Faelind makes it.”

“You _were_ engaged in criminal activity because you were _taught_ to be,” Nithaniel corrected the elfling. “But you are not now, are you? Think about it. You are a ward of the Elders. You haven't been treated any differently from any other elfling in our care; Feredir’s apprentice or my charges, it matters not. Whatever you were before, you have had a fresh start. You are learning the right way and that is the most important thing.”

“But we’re so different. Elder Faelind is cold and elegant and graceful,” Lutha said, ticking each point off on his fingers. “I’m rude. I talk back. I lose my temper and I threaten to bite when I’m upset. He won’t like that.”

“You may not see it but you are already calmer and more well mannered than you used to be,” Nithaniel pointed out. “Faelind will be patient with you. Besides, I suspect that you and he may be good for one another.”

Lutha cast Nithaniel a doubtful glance as they passed beneath an arched trellis covered with pink and white roses. “What if you ask him to let me stay and he says no? He might say no.”

“He won’t. We all agreed on your first day here that any one of us would be willing to take you in should the need arise,” Nithaniel said. “Faelind will not turn you away. I promise.”

“He won’t let me get away with things like Feredir did, will he?” Lutha asked reluctantly.

That prompted a lilting laugh from Nithaniel. “I doubt it. But he will never be cruel or unfair.”

“Then I guess you had better write to him,” Lutha conceded with a sigh.

“I will,” Nithaniel promised, giving her charge a reassuring smile. “Is there anything else that you would like to talk to me about?”

Lutha bit his lower lip as he thought about it. There was but he didn’t know how to start. His hesitation gave Nithaniel pause as well, and she guided him to a pale stone bench with rounded edges in the shade of a willow tree. “People keep saying about my name,” Lutha said finally. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”

“Ah. You have a sweet name and there is nothing wrong with it, but I understand that it must be difficult when others pass comment,” Nithaniel said gently, folding her hands in her lap as she sat next to the elfling. “You see, _lutha_ is a word in our language but by itself it is not a name. It means _to charm_ or _to enchant._ It can be used as a name element, such as Lúthien, Princess of Doriath that was. _Lutha_ sounds like a short-name for a name of that sort.”

“But I don’t want to be called something else,” Lutha said slowly.

“You do not have to give up your name,” Nithaniel promised. “It is part of you. It is yours. But our people can be known by more than one name. If you were perhaps called…hmm, Luthanar, you could still be _Lutha_ for short.”

“Luthanar,” Lutha repeated.

“It means _fiery enchantment,”_ Nithaniel said. “It is fair to say that you have enchanted me and Feredir, at least, and you certainly have a fiery spirit.”

“It sounds like a real elf name,” Lutha ventured.

“Yes,” Nithaniel agreed fondly. “But you are under no obligation to adopt that name if you would prefer something else. It is just an idea.”

Lutha nodded thoughtfully. There was something a little off about _Luthanar,_ something that didn’t quite seem right to him. Still, he reminded himself that he had only heard it for the first time just then. “I’ll get used to it,” he said aloud.

“It does suit you. Just take some time to think about if it is right or not.” Nithaniel squeezed the elfling’s hand and gave him a warm smile. “Now, run inside and pack. I will send word to Faelind.”

“Luthanar,” Lutha said again in a dubious whisper, testing the name as he left the gardens.

Packing didn’t take long, for shoving everything into his travel pack was the work of just a few minutes, but then Lutha felt so badly about treating his nice clothes in so careless a way that he took them all out and neatly folded them. Still, that only delayed him by a quarter hour. After a final glance around the room to make sure that he hadn’t forgotten anything, Lutha went a short way along the corridor to the room that Alphros was sharing with Galad. He stepped through the ajar door to find Alphros writing a letter at the table with his chin propped on his fist, and Galad sitting on his bed with a deeply intense look on his face as he read his latest healing book.

“I just thought you should know that I’m going to stay with Elder Faelind,” Lutha announced.

Galad stirred slightly, but he didn’t look up from his book as if he thought that the conversation was only meant for his roommate. “Why are you leaving?” Alphros asked in dismay, letting his quill fall from his hand. “Don’t you like it here?”

“Not really. I need to be somewhere quiet,” Lutha replied.

“Oh. Well, if you have to go then you have to go. I’ll miss you,” Alphros said with an unhappy sigh. “But you will come home when Elder Feredir gets back, won’t you?”

Lutha nodded so vehemently that a lock of black hair fell down into his eyes. “As if I would stay with Elder Faelind for longer than I need to.”

“He’s so dark and scary,” Alphros said with a shiver. He paused, and then hastily added, “But I’m sure he’s really nice when you get to know him. You’ll be fine.”

“Thanks. Hey, Galad,” Lutha said suddenly, turning to the bed. He watched as the other elfling marked his place in the book and looked up. “You know you asked me what my name is short for? Ask me again.”

“What is Lutha short for?” Galad asked dutifully.

“Luthanar,” Lutha replied. “It’s my new name. What do you think?”

Galad set his book aside and pulled his knees up to his chest, nodding thoughtfully as he wrapped his arms around them. “It is a real name, at least. It sounds good.”

“Do you think so? I don’t know if I like it,” Lutha admitted.

“It’s not bad for now but if it’s not the right name then you’ll just figure it out,” Galad replied.

That was a cheering thought. Lutha nodded, feeling a little better. “True enough. Well, I have to go. I’m taking the lavender oil with me.”

“Fine. It was a gift,” Galad said briefly. “Will you be coming back to visit?”

“If you want me to. Does that mean we’re friends?” Lutha asked.

Alphros watched curiously while Galad did a surprised double-blink. “Well…perhaps. Would you like that? Being friends?”

“I suppose so,” Lutha said offhandedly. “Would you?”

“Yes,” Galad decided after a moment. “I would.”

“Good. Well, enjoy studying,” Lutha said, glancing at the book that his new friend had put down. “Good luck with the healing stuff.”

“Thank you. Actually, I…” Galad hesitated, but at an encouraging nod from Alphros he took a deep breath. “I had a couple of letters. One was from my father ordering me home for disobeying his orders to go and be trained by the Temple healers. The other was from Healer Nestorion. Elder Nestaeth has been called away to some human settlement to help the healers there with high infant mortality rates. Apparently she was preparing to take me on but now she won’t be back for some time. Healer Nestorion has offered me an apprenticeship instead.”

Lutha smiled. He was surprised to realise that he felt truly pleased for Galad. “That’s wonderful. Healer Nestorion is really good. And he’s nice.”

“Yes, he is. I have accepted the apprenticeship. I start next week but he is coming here tomorrow for me to sign the papers,” Galad said with a self-conscious smile. “Once I’m bound to his service my older brothers can’t come and drag me home by my ears. They would be breaking the law.”

“They sound like bastards,” Lutha sympathised.

“Um, no, our parents were married,” Galad said.

“Not those kind of bastards, Galad,” Alphros pointed out.

“Not those kind of…oh. _Oh_. I see. No. Um, they’re fine. It’s complicated,” Galad said, shifting uneasily. “They just…they’re a lot older than me, and they’re good at being somewhat bullying big brothers while I’m not good at being the baby brother who has to take it. My next older brother Noendir acted as a barrier between us when he could, but then he left to train as a Protector and it was just me at home with my eldest brothers and our father. I didn’t fit in all that well with my family. I’ve never really fit in anywhere.”

Lutha gave the other boy a thoughtful look. “You just haven't found where you belong yet. I think you’ll fit in well with the healers.”

“I hope so,” Galad said softly. He buried his teeth in his lower lip with a quiet sigh, and then his eyes widened as if a sudden thought had occurred to him. He got up and went to the bookcase at the side of the room, running his finger along the books there before removing one. “Here, Lutha. Elder Nithaniel won’t mind you borrowing it.”

“What am I meant to do with it?” Lutha asked doubtfully. “Are there pictures?”

Galad moved to Lutha’s side, and he flipped the book open to show him how each page had a different picture with a single large letter next to it. “You can use this to help you with your reading. You are going to learn, aren’t you?”

“I want to,” Lutha admitted.

“Take it, then,” Galad said. “And next time we see you, you can show us what you’ve learned.”

With the book tucked into his pack with the rest of his belongings, Lutha said goodbye to his friends and made his way downstairs. He paused at the bottom of the stairs to think about whether he should take food with him, but then he took a deep breath and made himself leave without detouring to the kitchen. He hadn’t needed to hide food at Feredir’s house, and he had quickly realised that he didn’t need to hide it at Nithaniel’s. That meant that the likelihood of having to hide it at Faelind’s was equally slim. If he ran into any food-related problems, well, he had been in worse scrapes and he would be able to figure it out. He probably wouldn’t have to though, pointed out the part of his mind that felt more comfortable with his new situation. Yes, but just in case, replied the still wary part.

Elder Faelind had arrived while Lutha had been inside, and he broke off his conversation with Nithaniel as they saw Lutha approaching. “Greetings, Luthanar,” Faelind said evenly, folding his hands inside the wide sleeves of his black over-robe. “Are you ready to go?”

“I suppose so.” Lutha looked past Faelind to a lacquered carriage with a pair of matched bay horses at its head and a golden acorn painted on the side of the door. A smartly dressed elleth with the same acorn embroidered on her gold-trimmed green tunic was sitting up front, and Lutha’s horse was tethered by rope to a ring at the back of the carriage. Amber idly swished her tail as she waited patiently for them to be off, but Lutha just tried not to roll his eyes. Of course Faelind thought himself too good to sit on horseback, he thought with a flash of annoyance. “I feel as though I shouldn’t be surprised that you travel in one of those things,” Lutha said aloud.

Faelind’s green eyes glittered in what might have been amusement though there was no smile to match it. “I do not. Generally speaking.”

“Elder Faelind hired the carriage because he was not certain how much luggage you would have to bring with you,” Nithaniel explained. She gave Lutha a hug, and whispered, “Please do try not to get into trouble before you have even walked through his front door.”

“I’ll try,” Lutha whispered back.

Nithaniel gave Lutha a kiss on the cheek, and as she drew back she smiled fondly at him before giving him over to Faelind’s care. The carriage that Faelind had hired was enclosed with two long seats like cushioned benches, facing each other on either side of the doors. Lutha got in first and chose the seat facing forward, keeping his travel pack securely on his lap. Faelind sat across from him with fingers elegantly steepled, and then they were off, leaving Nithaniel and her house behind.

“Elder Nithaniel’s home was not to your liking, I am told,” Faelind began. “In my house it will just be the two of us save for when visitors come. Your friends will be allowed to visit if you have asked permission and if noise is kept to an acceptable level. Elder Angoliel will also attend three times a week to give you lessons. Aside from any studying that she requires of you, the rest of the time will be yours to spend as you desire.”

“I’m not going to be any good at lessons,” Lutha informed his new guardian.

“No. Not if you take that attitude,” Faelind agreed. “Elder Angoliel does not appreciate her pupils doing any less than their best. As you are now my ward, I too shall be displeased if the reports that I hear about you are not good.”

“I’ll do my best but my best will be bad,” Lutha said. “It’s not an attitude. It’s a fact. How can I be good at something that I’ve never done before?”

Faelind gave the elfling a long look from across the carriage. “The point of lessons is that you learn. You are not expected to be _good_ when you first begin. You are expected to apply yourself in lessons, behave well, and give Elder Angoliel your full respect and attention as you strive to improve. I know that you are capable of it. I know also that you are capable of behaving well and paying attention to the rules _outside_ of your lessons as well.”

“I’m not well behaved,” Lutha said, rolling his eyes towards Faelind.

“Then allow me to make it very clear to you that misbehaviour will earn you a warmed bottom,” Faelind retorted. “Do with that information what you will. Heed it or not. The only one it affects is you.”

Lutha sighed and slumped down in his seat until a sharp word from Faelind made him sit up straight again. He scowled and stared out of the window at the passing scenery, idly twirling a lock of dark hair around his finger. “Do you like my new name?” he asked finally, breaking the silence.

“It seems suitable enough,” Faelind conceded.

“Elder Nithaniel said that I can still be Lutha, though,” Lutha said. “Oh,” he added, as a sudden thought occurred to him. “Have you got any dogs?”

Faelind had started to turn his gaze to the window, but he glanced back at the elfling and shook his head slightly. “I have three horses and a cat. And fish, I suppose.”

“I like cats,” Lutha offered.

“Good,” Faelind replied.

Lutha nodded thoughtfully and fell silent. He rather felt that he and Faelind had had enough of speaking to one another for the moment. He stared out of the window at passing trees and bright wildflowers, and soon enough they were arriving at Faelind’s home. Lutha wasn’t sure if it was a huge house or a small mansion. Either way, he thought that it was far too big a place for one elf to live alone, with a burbling fountain in the centre of the front drive, fine stables and paddocks, and well tended gardens spread out to the sides and the rear of the white brick property. Still, he supposed that Faelind was an Elder and a Very Important Elf, and such people tended to live in grandeur. Even Feredir, who was as down to earth as anyone Lutha had met in the Greenwood, dressed finely and had a larger than necessary home because he too was a Very Important Elf.

While a groom untied Amber from the back of the carriage and a smiling elleth in a dove grey dress came to take Lutha’s pack, Faelind nodded briefly to them in thanks before sweeping inside to the beautiful marble entrance hall where a split staircase led upstairs. Curled on the left-hand bottom step was a white and fluffy something that made Lutha think of a piece of cloud that had fallen right out of the sky, but then it opened piercing blue eyes and stared straight at him. “Your cat looks like a cloud,” he told Faelind.

“Elder Serellon believes that she resembles a marshmallow,” Faelind said neutrally. “A cloud is preferable.”

“What’s a marshmallow?” Lutha asked curiously.

“A sweet made with honey and the sap of the mallow plant,” Faelind replied. “I shall have some brought from town so that you may try them. The kitchen is down here,” he continued, leading Lutha further into the house and past a large living room. “Meals are generally taken in the kitchen though as you can see through those doors, there is a separate dining room which is used for larger gatherings.” Faelind paused then and gave Lutha a steady look. “Speaking of meals, you will have three a day and you may take what food you like when you are hungry, but it does not belong hidden in drawers.”

Lutha looked sullenly at his guardian. He almost felt inclined to hide food now that Faelind had turned it into a rule. “I’ll think about it.”

“Do more than think about it. This is my study,” Faelind said, moving on before Lutha could argue and nodding to a closed door. “You may not enter without permission.”

“Why?” Lutha asked. “What do you have in there? Secret things?”

“My work, which is not for elflings,” Faelind replied.

“But why? Is it about bad things? Worse than thieving?” Lutha pressed curiously.

“Some of the cases that I have presided over are much worse than hungry children stealing to survive, yes,” Faelind replied grimly. “That is why you will listen to me when I say that you are not to enter the study without permission. Am I making myself clear?”

“You’re clear,” Lutha sighed. “By the way, your cat hates me.”

The marshmallow-cloud had followed them through the house, stopping every time they stopped and staring unblinkingly at Lutha with her bushy tail twitching. “She doesn’t know you,” Faelind replied calmly. “Give her time.” He continued past the study and through the house until they (and the cat) came to a closed door, which Faelind opened into a vast room that spanned the length of the house. The walls and ceiling were wide panes of glass, some of which were flung open to let in a cool breeze. Dotted around the room were many plants and flowers in white pots. In the largest pots were fruit trees – fig, lemon, and orange; Fanuilos the cat snaked past the elves and lay in a patch of dappled sunlight next to one of the lemon trees, though she kept her eyes on Lutha as he stopped to admire a marble pool where fish darted back and forth beneath the surface.

“This is the solar,” Faelind said. He gestured to a corner of the room graced by a low couch, a round table large enough for taking tea at, and a couple of cushioned wicker chairs. “It is pleasant to sit among the plants and think quietly. You may use it as often as you wish.”

“It’s peaceful,” Lutha observed.

Faelind glanced around the solar and nodded briefly before leading Lutha back through the house and finally upstairs. “My private rooms are at the end of the corridor,” he said. “However, if I am inside and you need me, you are welcome to come in and tell me so.”

“What if I want to annoy you?” Lutha asked.

“No,” Faelind said flatly.

“What if you annoy me?”

“I do not intend to do so.”

“You probably will,” Lutha informed his newest guardian. “I’ll probably annoy you too. We might not mean to. It just happens when you live with someone. Am I annoying you now?”

“I am making an effort not to be annoyed. You are making it difficult,” Faelind replied impassively. “Still, you are my ward and you are remaining here.”

“Thanks for letting me stay,” Lutha said awkwardly. He paused in front of a portrait on the wall. A golden haired elleth gazed back at him, deep blue eyes shining and a mysterious sort of smile on her face, captured forever in paint. “Who’s that?”

Faelind stopped and followed Lutha’s gaze. “My wife.”

It had never occurred to Lutha that Faelind would have a wife. He didn’t seem the right sort. Lutha supposed belatedly that he didn’t really know what the right sort was. “Where is she?”

The question made Faelind turn his eyes away from the portrait. “In the care of Hir Bannoth. Lord Námo. Whichever name you know him by.”

“I don’t understand what that means,” Lutha ventured.

“She died,” Faelind replied shortly. “She was killed.”

“Oh.” Lutha chewed his lower lip. “Sorry.”

Faelind just nodded briefly. “Thank you.”

With a nod in return, Lutha looked around in search of inspiration for a change of subject. “So…when is Elder Angoliel coming?”

“I have asked her to come this afternoon,” Faelind replied. “The sooner your education begins, the better.”

“Elder Feredir and Elder Nithaniel would have let me settle in first,” Lutha pointed out.

“As you can see, little boy, I am not Elder Feredir or Elder Nithaniel,” Faelind said.

Lutha sighed. “No. You’re not. I’ll go and unpack then.”

“Good. Your room is the next on the left. I shall be in my study if you need anything.” Faelind sounded suddenly distant. His eyes had returned to the painting of his wife, and it was obvious to Lutha that his guardian’s thoughts were far away. Wondering if he should say something, the elfling hesitated. Then he decided against it because he didn’t know _what_ to say so he just quietly slipped away to unpack and settle into his new room.

The room was of such a size that Lutha wasn’t entirely sure what he was meant to do with so large a living space. Like his room at Feredir’s house there was an adjoining bathing chamber, but the bedroom also boasted a separate dressing room _and_ a balcony accessed through wide double doors. Lutha hadn’t known what to expect from Faelind’s home, though the Elder was so grim and intimidating that he had at least anticipated a darker sort of place. Instead the natural light that streamed through the house, the sweet floral scent, the subtle touches of colour and decoration here and there, all so at odds with cold Faelind and his fine clothes of unrelieved black, made the house positively welcoming. Lutha supposed that it had been meant for more than just Faelind. Had Faelind and his wife had children, the elfling wondered. Had they thought to fill their home with many children and much joy? Was that why Faelind remained in so grand a house, alone save for his cloud-cat and the staff who smiled when he did not, because he was holding on to a dream that had died long ago? Lutha sat on the bed and put his chin in his hands with a sigh.

“I think he’s sad,” Lutha whispered to himself. He had never considered sadness as a reason for Faelind being the way that he was, but maybe that was exactly it. Taking a deep breath, the elfling looked at his reflection in the window opposite the bed and nodded firmly as he met his own gaze. “I’ll be good. I mean I’ll try really hard to be good. I swear it. Then I won’t make a sad elf even sadder, and Feredir will be pleased with me when he comes home, and maybe me and Elder Faelind can be friends by the end of this. If he wants to anyway.”

It was precisely an hour after Lutha made a vow to his reflection that three brisk knocks sounded on the door. Standing on the other side was an elleth dressed in a high-necked gown of sober grey with a shawl of black lace looped artfully over her shoulders. Her dark golden hair was done up in an elaborate bun at the nape of her neck, and she studied Lutha intently. He returned her gaze. “Can you really teach me to read and write?” he asked.

“If you are willing to learn,” Elder Angoliel replied. “You must _want_ to.”

“I do,” Lutha said.

Angoliel smiled slightly and put her hand on Lutha’s shoulder, guiding him from the room and downstairs. He thought at first that she was taking him to the study, but they walked past it and around the corner to another closed door. “This is where Elder Faelind has taught those who study the law under him. He has no students for now and no plans to take any, so he has allowed that this may be your schoolroom.”

The door swung inwards to a brightly lit room that looked out over the gardens. At the front of the room was a slate board on the wall where Angoliel had already written out the alphabet in large script. “The best place to begin is at the beginning,” she said, directing Lutha to sit at a desk facing forwards before picking up a long pointer and tapping it against the board. Then, she turned to Lutha with a warm smile. “So, let us begin.”


	7. An Unexpected Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Lutha comes to a realisation about his identity and caves to curiosity, the sun starts to break through the clouds for Faelind.

The prospect of staying with Elder Faelind had filled Lutha with a resigned sort of dread that in hindsight he thought probably hadn’t been entirely fair. Lutha still thought that wearing a bit less black and thawing a little towards the world at large would serve Faelind well, but neither of those things made him an elf to be afraid of. Just warily cautious of, perhaps. At any rate, the dread that Lutha had felt at the start was no more. He no longer hated Faelind. He didn’t even dislike him. In fact, he was almost starting to feel a sort of careful respect for his new guardian as they slowly became accustomed to one another though they had not formed the easy relationship that had blossomed between Lutha and Feredir. That made things awkward sometimes. Mealtimes were no exception when conversation became stilted and neither of them knew what to say. Having a guest to dinner was always a relief as it took some of that pressure away.

That night their dinner guest had been Elder Lavaneth, and Lutha was secretly grateful to her for carrying much of the conversation with tales of the orphaned foxes that she was raising. He thought that Faelind was probably just as grateful, though as always, Faelind gave nothing away in his cool stare or impassive expression. When dinner was over and Lavaneth took her leave of them to return home to her foxes, Faelind retired to the study with instructions for Lutha to complete his homework – an order that would have (and indeed had) made the elfling balk just a few weeks ago when lessons had started.

The idea of having to do more on top of his daytime studies had frustrated Lutha so much at first that he had thrown his new writing book across the room. After Elder Angoliel had calmly commanded him to pick the book up and put it back on his desk, she had introduced him to the sturdy ruler that she kept on _her_ desk at the front of the schoolroom. Well, more like she had introduced one particular part of his body to the ruler. Repeatedly. Then, when he had been sent to sit back down with red eyes and a tender bottom, Angoliel had evenly told him that consistency was key and practice would make perfect. She had also made the point that while she would excuse late or incomplete homework the first few times as Lutha settled into his new routine, continued failure to apply himself to his homework would earn him another good dose of the ruler. Still smarting from his first dose, the elfling had held his tongue.

Lutha had become quite diligent about doing his homework, though it wasn’t just the threat of the ruler hanging over him that was responsible for that. Most of the time, he found that he actually _wanted_ to do it. He liked the way that Angoliel praised him when he turned his work in, and next time he saw Alphros and Galad he wanted to show them what he could do. Most surprising to Lutha was the sense of quiet pride that he felt whenever he managed to read a sentence or spell a word. He hadn’t expected that.

Along with colours and animals, Lutha had been learning to write simple sentences. Angoliel had told him to practice _my name is Luthanar_ though she had also allowed that he may work on _my name is Lutha_. That was how he thought of himself, after all. Luthanar still didn’t mean much to him. In fact, he even got the spelling wrong most of the time with one letter in particular being a source of frustration and confusion. But to see _Lutha_ written in his own shaky hand was something else. Lutha didn’t know why, but he had felt like he wanted to cry the first time he had written it.

That evening when Lutha finished his homework, he went to the study. He almost walked straight in, but he caught himself just in time and remembered to knock. “Are you busy?” he asked without preamble. “I want to show you something.”

Seated at his desk, Faelind marked his place in the folder of documents that he was studying and set it aside. “Come here and show me, little boy.”

“My writing,” Lutha announced, setting his schoolbook down in front of his guardian. “I finished.”

Faelind carefully leafed through the book. Lutha had seen him reading before and knew that he was fast, but he took his time over the writing and occasionally gave a quiet nod of approval. “You have worked hard, Luthanar,” Faelind said. “This is well done.”

“Even where I wrote my name?” Lutha asked cautiously.

Turning the page, Faelind ran his gaze down the lines that Lutha had painstakingly written. “I can see that you tried,” Faelind said after a moment. He gestured Lutha to his side and set the book back down on the desk. “Look here. The first two lines you have written _Luthanar._ On the third you have misspelt it. The letter _númen_ has become the letter _anto._ That misspelling has continued through the other lines down to the bottom of the page.”

“Every line is wrong?” Lutha whispered. “Again?”

“That does not take away from the effort that you put in,” Faelind said quietly. “You made a mistake and practice will remedy it. That is all.”

“But what have I written?” Lutha demanded.

“ _Luthavar_ ,” Faelind replied, giving the elfling a thoughtful look. “That is what you always write when you misspell the name.”

With a flash of anger in his grey eyes, Lutha snatched the book up from the desk. He felt like storming away and hiding in his room, but he made himself take a deep breath as he held the book tight against his chest. “Well then,” he decided. “I’m just going to be Luthavar now.”

“Of course,” Faelind agreed. “I see no difficulty with that.”

That caught Lutha off guard. He had been ready for an argument. “You don’t mind that I want to change my name?”

“It is _your_ name and not even one that has been formally recorded. Nobody has the right to mind if you change it. Besides, _Luthavar_ suits you just as much. Better, even,” Faelind added. “You are a charming young elf who has been separated from your kind until now. And the Evair are Elves, those of our kin who chose to remain behind on the Great Journey many thousands of years ago. They too were separated from their kindred.”

Lutha nodded slowly as he considered that. “Do you really think I’m charming?”

“I think that you have the ability to charm some people, at least,” Faelind replied neutrally.

“But not you?” Lutha asked.

The ghost of a smile appeared on Faelind’s lips as he shook his head. “You certainly cannot charm your way out of _trouble_ with me. Still, you have behaved fairly well so far.”

“So far,” Lutha echoed. “I don’t know if that will last. Will you tell everyone else that I’m Luthavar now?”

“I will make sure that everyone knows,” Faelind promised. “Do not concern yourself with that, little boy.”

Lutha nodded, running the new name around in his head. Then, he said softly, “Luthavar. Yes. I like it better. Luthanar never felt right. Like it wasn’t me. Does that make sense?”

“Perfect sense,” Faelind replied. “Luthavar it is, then.”

“Luthavar,” Lutha repeated in a whisper, and had he been paying attention he would have seen Faelind smile.

When Elder Angoliel came back the next day for lessons, she was pleased to learn of Lutha’s new choice of name. Like Faelind, she agreed that it suited him well. She even laughed at Lutha’s suggestion that he didn’t need to practice writing _my name is Luthavar_ as he had been writing it the whole time anyway. After having the elfling write it out a few more times to be certain that he could manage the spelling when he was concentrating on it and not just making a mistake, Angoliel allowed that they could move on to number problems for the rest of the day. Lutha thought it was funny that they were called number problems when there was no such thing as word problems or reading problems. Numbers were no problem to him. He liked them, and they made a lot more sense than all the new words that he was having to learn.

That afternoon when Lutha was freed from lessons, Faelind was nowhere to be found. Instead he had left a simple note in the living room that Lutha found he could read even if he had to slowly sound out some of the words.

_I have gone to the palace. I will return. Behave well, little boy._

  * _Elder Faelind_



“It’s still not a palace,” Lutha whispered to himself, tucking the note into his pocket and considering what he could do while Faelind was gone.

His thoughts no longer turned to running away and they hadn’t for weeks now, but they did still turn to food. Lutha went to the kitchen where a member of household staff was busy preparing a roast duck for that evening’s meal. She smiled at Lutha and encouraged him to help himself to a handful of biscuits. Maybe he could take Amber for a ride, Lutha reflected, nibbling at one of the biscuits as he made his way back out of the kitchen. He couldn’t go and see Galad because the other elfling was busy apprenticing to Nestorion, and he couldn’t see Alphros because he had gone home to visit his family while Feredir was away.

Lutha supposed that he could pay a visit to one of the other Elders. Not Angoliel. She had only been there that morning. Not Nithaniel either, because she came for dinner every week to see how he was doing. Definitely not Elder Rethedir. Lutha thought that would be an awkward visit. Thavron the carpenter? He was even tempered and he had kind eyes, and even though he was a strong craftsman type, he wasn’t intimidating like Serellon the stonemason or Turcared the smith. Besides, he always offered Lutha a slice of fruit pie. That was a tempting thought.

Unfortunately, it occurred to Lutha just as he drew level with the door to Faelind’s study. He stopped and gave the door a considering look. What was in there that Faelind thought was unsuitable for elflings? Lutha had been in there plenty of times before when Faelind was present, and he hadn’t seen anything that he shouldn’t have. Faelind had never even made an attempt to cover what he was working on when Lutha was in the study. Maybe that was just because he had felt confident that his ward wouldn’t be able to read any of it.

Finishing the last of his biscuits, Lutha opened the door to the study just enough that he could slip through without opening it all the way. Like the rest of the house, the study was immaculate. Two high windows on either side of Faelind’s desk cast light into every corner of the room. Each window had a curved and cushioned seat beneath it where one could sit and look out across the gardens. Above the fireplace to the left of the desk was a large framed map of the forest, and where the walls weren’t lined with bookcases there were handsomely carved tall and narrow chests of drawers. Lutha idly pulled open one of the drawers and leafed through the leather-bound folders within.

When he had gathered an armful of things to look at, Lutha sat on the floor with the folders in a neat pile in front of him. It didn’t take him long to realise that the nature of Faelind’s work meant that it was too advanced for his limited reading ability. He could recognise which letters were which, and he could piece some of the words together using the sounds that Angoliel had taught him, but not enough that he could make much sense of the documents that he was looking at.

Well, Lutha thought. Maybe there were pictures that Faelind thought unsuitable for him. That was almost laughable. Lutha had seen hangings and a beheading, and he had even once looked up at the wrong moment just in time to see a man get his throat cut open. The worst part of that had been the gurgling. It had seemed to go on forever. No, Lutha was quite sure that _pictures_ couldn’t shock him. And yet, he didn’t laugh. If Faelind wanted to protect him, there was something quite touching about that. It made Lutha frown slightly and push the pile of folders away from him with his foot. Suddenly, he didn’t feel good about what he had done.

That moment of realisation had come too late. The study door swung inwards, startling Lutha so much that he almost dropped the folder that he was still holding. He looked up from where he was sitting on the floor, surrounded by the very things that Faelind hadn’t wanted him to look at, and stared across the room at his guardian. If Faelind had felt the same surprise at seeing Lutha there, it was gone now, replaced by cold anger. “What,” he said, very quietly, “do you think you are doing, little boy?”

“Reading,” Lutha ventured. “Or…well, not-reading.”

“Pick those up and stack them on my desk,” Faelind commanded the elfling.

“I could put them back where I found them,” Lutha offered.

“Don’t.” Faelind’s voice cracked like a whip. “You do not know the correct order. Put them on the desk.”

Lutha sighed unhappily, but he moved to a kneeling position and began gathering the folders into his arms. “I didn’t know that you were going to be back so soon.”

“A poor defence for misbehaviour,” Faelind said coolly.

“I wasn’t defending myself. I was just saying. And Elder Angoliel told me to practice my reading,” Lutha added.

“Then that is what you should do. But not in here,” Faelind replied. “I had already forbidden this room to you when I am not here. You know that.”

“I forgot.” Lutha froze as soon as the words left his mouth. Why had he said that? Of all the stupid things, he berated himself.

Faelind stared in equal disbelief as his ward got up and carried the leather folders to the desk. “You _forgot_?” He took a calming breath and then looked sternly at Lutha. “You may think that this is amusing but I do not. You will go to the corner at once and face the wall until I tell you to leave it.”

“Why?” Lutha asked. “What’s in the corner?”

“Nothing,” Faelind snapped. “You stand there and think about what you have done and why it was wrong.”

Lutha went and stood in the corner but not without a heavy sigh that he couldn’t quite keep in. He understood that he had done wrong. Still, wasting time with his nose to the wall wasn’t a concept that he understood or had any patience for, and so he squirmed restlessly. “I don’t like this.”

“Less talking, more thinking,” Faelind reprimanded him.

“But I’m bored,” Lutha complained.

“The longer you complain, the longer I will keep you there,” Faelind replied.

“Then I’ll complain forever. You can’t keep me here forever so eventually I would win,” Lutha said.

From somewhere behind him, Lutha heard the deep and quiet sound of Faelind breathing in and slowly letting it out. Beyond that there was nothing. No shouting, no hitting, no threat to be quiet or else, even though Lutha knew that he was probably getting on Faelind’s nerves. He opened his mouth to say something else but the words never came. The knowledge that he had upset Faelind didn’t make him comfortable, he realised. He didn’t want to do any more damage. He didn’t want to be the reason why Faelind had to breathe deeply just to stay calm. So, he pressed himself into the corner and stayed silent.

“Luthavar. Come here,” Faelind said eventually. As Lutha crossed the room and paused a short distance away from him, he gave the elfling a long look. “Do you understand that I am going to punish you?”

“I don’t want you to,” Lutha replied.

“Nevertheless.” Faelind picked up an oval paddle crafted of sturdy black leather and tapped it lightly against the palm of his hand. “You broke a rule that I gave you. In doing so, you violated my personal space.”

“That’s not why I did it,” Lutha said abruptly. “I didn’t want to violate anything. I was just curious. I wanted to see what was so bad that I couldn’t come in here by myself.”

“My study is no place for elflings. The work that I do is not always appropriate for young eyes. If you have questions then you may ask, and I will answer as best I can, but you do not come in here unsupervised and you do not _ever_ look through my work,” Faelind said. “So. I do not know how Feredir and Nithaniel handled things. With me, for now, you will bend over the desk.”

“I didn’t get into any trouble with Elder Nithaniel,” Lutha protested, sounding offended. “I only stayed with her for three days.”

“Luthavar,” Faelind said sharply. “Get over the desk. At once.”

Huffing out a breath, Lutha glared at Faelind before turning to the desk with a flick of his dark hair. He stared at it and then he took a slow step closer and bent down, his arms braced on top of it. Behind him, Faelind moved to stand at his side. He felt the back of his tunic being lifted and tucked into his belt, but then nothing else happened. Lutha turned his head slightly and looked over his shoulder. Faelind had hesitated with his hand lingering just above the lowest part of Lutha’s back, as if he was torn between taking down his ward’s leggings and leaving them where they were. After a moment, he shook his head slightly and rested his hand on Lutha’s back.

Although the leggings had been left in place, they didn’t offer much protection from the paddle especially after the first couple of minutes when the half-strength smacks became firmer and more solid. Lutha felt his sullen and sulky expression slip slowly from his face. It was difficult to keep that up when one’s bottom was being so soundly paddled that the only thing to feel was complete dismay. There was nowhere for Lutha to go with Faelind’s left hand resting on his back while the right wielded the paddle, but the elfling shifted from one foot to the other as if that would make a difference to the burn building beneath his leggings. It didn’t, and Lutha exhaled in frustration as he felt tears filling his eyes.

“It hurts!” Lutha made a half-hearted attempt to kick out. “You’re hurting me!”

“I am not,” Faelind said calmly, over the sound of leather striking his charge’s sensitive spots. “The paddle hurts but it is not damaging you.”

“You don’t _know_ that!” Lutha snapped tearfully.

“No? Perhaps these should be out of the way so I can make sure,” Faelind replied, and with one deft movement he tugged Lutha’s leggings down to fully bare his bottom.

“Don’t,” Lutha gasped automatically.

Behind and to the side of Lutha, Faelind went still. Lutha clamped his lips together and breathed deeply through his nose to try and calm himself, and for a moment the only thing that moved in the room was a tear that clung tremulously to his lashes before slipping down his cheek. Then, Faelind moved. He set the paddle down on the desk and took a step back.

“What are you going to do to me?” Lutha asked, his voice tight and strained.

“Nothing. You were afraid that I had hurt you. I was checking that I had not though I was certain of it,” Faelind replied. “I haven't. You’re fine,” he added, carefully pulling Lutha’s leggings back up over his dark pink bottom. “It is finished now.”

Lutha stood up and took a step away from the desk, wrapping his arms around himself. “Sorry,” he said abruptly, keeping his eyes on the floor.

Faelind just nodded and gave the elfling’s slim shoulder a light squeeze before clasping his hands behind his back. “What did you fear I was going to do to you?”

“I just remembered a…a bad thing,” Lutha whispered. “I don’t want to say.”

“You don’t have to. I swear to you on my life that you will never have cause to fear that again,” Faelind said quietly. “Not here.”

“People have told me that before and they were lying,” Lutha said, with a haunted look in his eyes. “I want to believe you. I mean, I _do_ believe you, but bad thoughts come into my head and they frighten me. I know that things are different here. I _know_ that. But…”

“But you knew sixty-eight years of fear and hurt,” Faelind interjected. “Sixty-eight years is nothing to me. To you it is your whole life. Weeks and months are enough time to start healing, but not enough to undo a lifetime of suffering. It took you time to understand that you do not need to hide food. It will take time for all your other fears to fade. We will wait as long as it takes, Luthavar.”

“I wish I didn’t feel scared when I don’t have to. I don’t want to be scared,” Lutha said distantly. A thought occurred to him and he looked up at Faelind. “Is that why you hesitated and didn’t take my leggings down at first? Did you think that I would be scared?”

Faelind gave one of his brief nods. “This was your first time receiving discipline from me and I was unsure how you would react. I thought by the time I took them down that you would just expect more of the paddle. That was my error and not something for you to feel badly about. Most of us here prefer to give discipline without clothing in the way,” he added. “One might say that it is part of the ritual as it adds another element of discipline. It also allows the one in charge to ensure that punishment is kept within the proper limits without harm being caused.”

“Is that how you would have done it if you hadn’t thought that I would be upset?” Lutha asked slowly.

“Yes. I do not generally smack leggings,” Faelind replied, with a flicker of a smile.

“Thanks. You know, for thinking of me. That…well, it was nice of you,” Lutha said awkwardly. “But if that’s how you normally do it then you don’t have to do it differently just for me. Now that I know, I won’t be scared next time.” He hesitated and glanced up at Faelind. “There will be a next time.”

“Of course there will. You are an elfling. If you think that is going to put me off taking care of you, I shall have to disappoint you,” Faelind said. “Now, is there anything else that I can help you understand, Luthavar?”

Lutha shook his head and glanced around the study. Some of the folders that he had taken out had been returned to their rightful place, but most were still waiting to be put away. “I’m sorry that I made extra work for you. I didn’t find anything interesting in your work, if that makes any of it better. I can’t read well enough to find the interesting stuff. But I thought there might be pictures.”

“Though likely not the kind of pictures you were looking for, I do have some that may be of interest to you,” Faelind said. He went to one of the bookcases and ran the tip of his elegant forefinger along the spines of the books until he reached a slim volume bound in red leather. It was filled with various woodland scenes painted in beautiful colours; trees in all seasons, creatures from little squirrels to great bears and majestic deer, and both cloudless summer skies and wintry grey with snow falling. There were people, too; elflings at play, and their elders bargaining at market, or hard at work in the smithy or on the hunt. There was a scene for everything, and each had a name written under it in elegant script. The final portrait was of a familiar dark haired ellon picnicking in a sunlit glade with the golden haired elleth that Lutha recognised from the paintings that hung around the house.

“This is you and your wife?” Lutha guessed cautiously.

“Yes. My mother painted these,” Faelind replied. “She paints often.”

“Will your mother like me?” Lutha asked suddenly.

“She will like you very much. I believe that you will like her, too.” Leaving the first book in Lutha’s hand, Faelind retrieved a second one and opened it to reveal scenes most certainly not set in Greenwood. Bustling cities of stone; a tower overlooking a rocky beach and a storm-grey sea; a lush green jungle; broad deserts with flat expanses and rolling dunes, the sand yellow-gold under the sun and pale in the light of the moon and stars. The pictures that Faelind lingered longest over though were of the snowy North, the sky rippling with streaks of green, purple, and gold over the frozen sea and the glittering white land. Many of the pictures showed the people and the animals of each land as well, with Elder Thureneth having painted herself in, the lone Elf among strangers.

“What are all these places?” Lutha asked slowly. “I recognise Harad. I have been there. But the others…are they real?”

“They are. My mother travels the world; trading, buying and selling goods, seeing what there is to see out there. This,” Faelind said, lightly touching the painting of a white bear crossing the freezing sea ice with her cubs, “is the Bay of Forochel in the far north.” He turned forward a handful of pages to the start of the sandy desert scenes. “This is Harad, as you said, which burns hot during the day and becomes freezing cold at night. And those are cities of Elves and Men, some fallen long ago but which my mother recalls well – Nargothrond, the stronghold of Finrod Felagund, and the enchanted realm Doriath where my mother spent her youth. The jungles are lands more southerly and easterly still, and that tower is the Tower of Avallónë on Tol Eressëa in the West, which we here have not seen for ourselves though tales speak of its beauty.”

“Elder Thureneth’s life sounds fun,” Lutha said. “Travelling, I mean. Seeing all these places.”

“She enjoys it. She is always happy with a travelling companion. You may wish to accompany her at some time in the future,” Faelind replied.

Lutha nodded thoughtfully. Perhaps he would enjoy visiting a new place without having to think about escape routes, avoiding guards, how to steal enough to keep the Clan happy or who he would have to give himself to. Perhaps it would be nice to visit somewhere and just look around and take everything in. “I could think about it,” he said aloud.

“Yes, do. Borrow these if you like,” Faelind said, handing Lutha the books. “Tell Angoliel which ones you like best. She will teach you the history and geography of these lands.”

Awkwardly mumbling thanks, Lutha held the books to his chest. He bit his lip then and took a deep breath. “I don’t think that you were done punishing me. You would have carried on if I hadn’t panicked. But you’re not angry now.”

“No. You have been punished and forgiven. It is over,” Faelind said calmly. “Now, go and get ready for dinner. I shall be some time in here so start without me.”

“I’ll wait,” Lutha said briefly.

Faelind _hmm-ed_ to that and started gathering some of the folders into his arms. “You do not have to.”

“I want to,” Lutha admitted under his breath.

That made Faelind pause. He glanced up and gave the elfling an unreadable look, and then a small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Very well. I shall endeavour to be there as soon as possible.”

Feeling pleased, though he couldn’t quite say why, Lutha returned the little smile and stepped towards the door. He didn’t open it though, instead pausing with his fingers wrapped around the handle. “Um, Elder Faelind? I really am sorry and not just because you caught me or because I’ve been punished. I’m sorry that I made life difficult for you by pulling your work out. I didn’t want to do that and I wasn’t thinking about it.”

“I accept your apology. Luthavar…” Faelind took a breath but he didn’t speak. He looked unsure of himself for the first time since Lutha had met him. Finally, he shook his head irritably. “I want you to know that you have not ever made life difficult for me.”

“Really?” Lutha asked softly.

“Really. I will not say that it has always been smooth but new situations rarely are.” Faelind smiled again, but this time it was a real one that reached his eyes, the first one that Lutha had ever seen from him. Most of the time Lutha thought of Faelind as a beautiful but cold statue. The smile breathed life into him, making him warm and handsome. “On the whole,” Faelind added, “I think that you and I have managed rather well.”

“Me too,” Lutha whispered.


	8. Midnight Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lutha has brief but memorable encounters with two more denizens of the forest, and finally starts to unravel the mystery surrounding his guardian.

Lutha didn’t think that he would ever be able to say that he was _pleased_ to have been in trouble, but his encounter with Faelind in the study seemed to have done something that a few weeks of awkward conversations over breakfast had not been able to. It was almost like a barrier had broken down between them. No more did Lutha silently wish for someone else to come and join them for dinner so that he didn’t have to think of what to say next, and no more did he feel like he was just an inconvenience that Faelind felt duty-bound to take care of until Feredir got home. In fact, while Lutha still missed Feredir and hoped for his safe return from the northern reaches of the forest, he no longer sat and stared out of the window imagining the hunter striding up to the front door to come and take him away. Faelind and his house were starting to feel like…well, maybe not _home_ exactly, but certainly no longer a situation that Lutha felt in any hurry to leave.

Indeed, he thought that Faelind was feeling more comfortable with their arrangement as well, for during breakfast a month after the study incident, Faelind said something that would have been unheard of not so long ago. “I must go to town later this morning,” he announced. “You may accompany me if you wish, Luthavar.”

Lutha still couldn’t help a suspicious sideways glance. “Are you saying that because you don’t trust me to stay here by myself? I won’t go in the study again.”

“If I did not trust you to remain alone, I would have said ‘I am going to town and you will come with me, little boy’. As I did not,” Faelind said, “I think we can assume that I would simply like to enjoy the pleasure of your company.”

“Oh.” Lutha frowned slightly as he considered that. “What if I would like to come with you?”

“Then say ‘thank you for asking me, Elder Faelind, I would like to accompany you to town’,” Faelind replied patiently.

“Thank you for asking me, Elder Faelind,” Lutha said dutifully. “I would like to accompany you to town.”

A smile flickered across Faelind’s face. “You are welcome.”

Morning lessons were uneventful and generally pleasant, and Faelind was ready and waiting for Lutha when they came to an end. He had changed out of his customary robes though not his customary black. Although… _hmm._ Lutha narrowed his eyes in thought as he followed Faelind outside where their horses had been readied for them. He couldn’t be sure but he thought that the silk shirt under Faelind’s tunic was charcoal grey. It was definitely at least two shades lighter than the tunic.

“You look nice today, Elder Faelind,” Lutha offered.

Effortlessly swinging himself atop his stallion’s back, Faelind gave the elfling a long look. “Thank you.”

“I think green would look really good on you,” Lutha added.

“Hmm. I do not much care for green,” Faelind said briefly.

That made Lutha’s mouth drop open as he hastily scrambled atop Amber’s back and rode out after Faelind. “How can you not like green? Look at where you live.” He reached out and pulled a leaf off a tree, then leaned across to hold it next to Faelind’s face. “See, this would go so well with your colouring.”

“Enough, please,” Faelind said.

“Obviously not the leaf, but something the same colour as it,” Lutha clarified.

“Luthavar,” Faelind snapped.

Lutha snatched his hand back as if he had been burned. “Sorry,” he said, though he couldn’t quite hide the hurt in his voice. “I was trying to be helpful.”

“Just…let it be,” Faelind replied. “Let us speak of other things.”

It was too late for that. Lutha dropped the leaf on the ground and stared straight ahead. He wasn’t sure what else they could talk about now that he had upset Faelind and Faelind had upset him, but finally he broke the silence. “Do you still want me to come to town with you?”

“Yes, I do,” Faelind said quietly. He took a steadying breath and looked across at his ward with a small smile. “Your homework last night was well done, little boy. I enjoyed reading it. What did Elder Angoliel have to say?”

“Oh.” Lutha brightened a little. “She said I did an excellent job and that she is very pleased with me.”

“Good,” Faelind murmured.

The brief moment of unpleasantness behind them, both Elder and elfling relaxed. There was a small part of Lutha that couldn’t help still feeling a little stung. But, he reminded himself, he and Faelind were still getting to know one another, still learning to be comfortable with each other. There were bound to be some pitfalls along the way. On the whole, Lutha thought, reminding himself of Faelind’s words on the day of the study incident, they had managed rather well. He smiled to himself, feeling cheered by that, and settled on asking about the different plants they passed as a safe point of conversation. Faelind always seemed to enjoy being able to impart knowledge.

Their first stop in town was the bookshop so that Faelind could collect a book that he had ordered. Even Lutha had to admit that it was a beautiful creation, expertly bound in rich red leather and shut with ornamental clasps of silver gilt. When Lutha asked curiously what it was, Faelind hesitated before admitting that he had reached the final pages of his last journal. Lutha just nodded thoughtfully to that. Once, he would have been surprised to learn that Faelind kept journals. Now, he knew better than to judge his aloof and mysterious guardian, preferring to carefully store away every new bit of information that he learned about Faelind, for all of those little pieces would eventually form a whole. He wondered what Faelind might have written about him in those journals, but he didn’t ask.

From the bookshop they went to the chandlery where Faelind bought a selection of twelve slender candles for Elder Lavaneth’s upcoming Begetting Day. Each one was a different colour and scent, and they were all bound together with a silk ribbon. “She loves candles,” Faelind said with an elegantly careless shrug, when Lutha looked curiously at them. Lutha shrugged in return and looked back at the crystallised honey sticks that had caught his attention. He was allowed three as a reward for doing well in lessons. Trying not to blush at the praise from Faelind, even though it really did make him feel quite warm inside, Lutha chose orange blossom, clover, and apple.

Finally, they went to wander around the marketplace made up of three-dozen different stalls dotted around the central fountain in the middle of town. Quite often Lutha found himself having to slow down and wait, for there were many elves who wished to greet Faelind or sometimes stop him completely and ask for advice about one matter or another. Lutha noticed that Faelind was good about firmly but politely deflecting their questions in favour of telling them when and where he was available to provide legal advice or listen to their concerns, but when one particularly persistent elleth wouldn’t let Faelind get away, Lutha found himself alone. He stopped next to a stall selling jars of sweets and crates of buns baked that morning. He didn’t think that Faelind would let him have anything from this stall after getting the honey sticks, but he could still look for next time and breathe in the sweetness that came from it.

“Excuse me.”

“Hello,” Lutha said guardedly, as he looked up at the ellon who had come to stand next to him. Tall, with reddish-brown hair, the ellon was wearing the smart uniform of the Protectors of Greenwood. Even though Lutha knew that Faelind had once been a Protector, and even though they defended the forest and its inhabitants, they were still really just guards, and Lutha’s experience with guards had never been good. Then, he noticed a small pin on the ellon’s tunic crafted to look like a branch with new leaves budding from it. A Protector in training, then. That was better, he supposed.

“Are you Lutha?”

Lutha nodded warily and focused on the trainee warrior. “Yes.”

“I thought so,” the ellon said, exhaling in relief. “He said to look out for a small elfling with black hair and dark eyes.”

“That’s rude,” Lutha replied flatly. “It’s accurate but still rude. He could have said look out for a young elf with black hair and dark eyes who happens to be a bit smaller than most everyone else around. Who is _he_ , anyway?”

“Oh! My brother,” the ellon replied hastily. “Galadaelin.”

That made Lutha draw back and narrow his eyes. “Which one are you? The nice one?”

“Er…I’m Noendir. I suppose ‘the nice one’ is probably right.” The young warrior in training slowly curled and uncurled his fingers around the slim sword at his waist as if it was a nervous reflex that he was unaware of. “Galad must have told you a lot about us for you to say that.”

“Not really but he told me enough,” Lutha replied.

“He told me about you as well,” Noendir said. “I wanted to meet you for myself and say thank you.”

“Why?” Lutha asked suspiciously.

“Because my little brother never had friends before coming here. Even after he arrived here in the south, it took him a while to settle in and find where he belongs,” Noendir said. “Now he is like a different elfling. He’s happy. Really happy, for the first time in his life. Some of that is because he’s doing what he always dreamed of, but it’s also down to you and Alphros. I just want you to know how grateful I am.”

“You don’t have to thank me for being Galad’s friend,” Lutha replied. “Alphros would say the same. We’re friends with Galad because we like him and because…well, because he is who he is.”

That made a wide smile appear on Noendir’s face, and he went from nervously wrapping his fingers around the hilt of his sword to happily jiggling it in its sheath. “I’m so glad,” he said, and there was a brief flash of steel as he pulled the sword partway out of the sheath only to push it back down again. He made Lutha think of someone who wasn’t used to having a sword at his waist and had to keep touching it as he adapted to it being there.

“And I’m glad that Galad has found his place,” Lutha said, focusing on Noendir.

“Me too. More than you know,” Noendir replied softly. “Look, my brother and I have dinner together once a month. You’re more than welcome to join us. Alphros too. I’m sure you don’t think highly of our family, but-”

“Galad only ever told me good things about you,” Lutha interjected.

“Well, that was kind of him,” Noendir said, with a grimace that suggested he didn’t think himself entirely worthy of being portrayed in a good light. He idly lifted his sword out of its sheath again, but he pulled it too far. As he released the hilt, the weight of the pommel tipped the sword and it slid the rest of the way out of the sheath to fall blade-up towards the ground. Noendir’s eyes widened and he automatically reached out to grab the blade, but someone else got there first. Faelind had materialised from behind Lutha, catching the sword by the grip. He swung it expertly up and away from the ground before it could land on Lutha’s foot.

“Lesson one, elfling,” he snapped at Noendir. “Never grab your sword by the blade unless you wish to lose your fingers. And lesson two, never draw your sword unless you intend to use it. Who is your Captain?”

“C-Captain Bregolas, my lord!” Noendir stammered, his eyes wide.

“Then report your conduct to him that he may reinforce those lessons more memorably,” Faelind said sharply. He tossed the sword in his hand so that the pommel was facing towards Noendir. “Take it and go.”

The trainee Protector took the sword and fumbled it back into the sheath. He made a movement that was half bow and half salute, and then he rushed away before he could incur any more of Faelind’s wrath. “A foolish child well deserving of his Captain’s strap,” Faelind said under his breath.

“You can’t just order people off to be strapped,” Lutha began, awestruck.

“I can and I have,” Faelind retorted. “That elfling must learn to respect his sword if he is to be a warrior of this forest.”

“Well, I suppose you _did_ save my foot from being chopped off.” Lutha hastened to catch up as his guardian strode away, and Faelind slowed slightly to let him. “Those were really good tricks that you did with the sword,” Lutha added, sounding full of admiration. “The way you grabbed it before it hit the floor, and then how you spun it around? I liked that. Did you learn how to do it when you were a warrior?”

“Yes,” Faelind said briefly.

“Can you show me more tricks?” Lutha asked. “Do you still have a sword somewhere at home?”

“I thought that you were hungry,” Faelind replied pointedly.

That made Lutha pause. “I am. Are we going to get food?”

“Yes, if you stop asking questions long enough for us to look at the menu,” Faelind said, and he led the way to The Great Oak Inn.

The prospect of food was enough to distract Lutha, and he enjoyed a pleasant lunch with Faelind in a private parlour overlooking the market. They spent the rest of the day apart, for Faelind had duties to attend to throughout the afternoon, but they came back together again in the evening for dinner and to enjoy one another’s company in the living room. And they did enjoy one another’s company, now that they had slowly learned to respect and understand each other. Some evenings, in the couple of hours before Lutha’s bedtime, they would talk, continuing their conversation from the dinner table or else finding new topics of discussion. Other times they played a board game. And some nights, like this one, they just sat silently, Faelind reading, and Lutha finishing his homework or creating pretty new patterns out of the collection of beads that he was slowly amassing for his hair, each of them privately taking something away from the feeling of not being alone.

From the very first day, Faelind had been strict about bedtime. It was nine o’clock if Lutha had lessons the next day, or was in trouble or otherwise in need of more rest, and an hour later if none of those things applied. That was why, when ten o’clock came and Faelind quietly broke the silence to send Lutha to bed, the elfling obediently stopped what he was doing. He knew that he would only get one warning if he decided against going to bed straight away, and he didn’t much want to be in trouble just then, especially at the end of what had been a nice day. So, he poured his beads back into their velvet pouch, gave Faelind a goodnight wave which the Elder acknowledged with a small smile, and went upstairs to bed.

To his immense surprise, Lutha had – sort of – come to appreciate the way that Faelind approached discipline. With Feredir there had been lots of different consequences depending on the rule that was broken, and he was so relaxed about things that he hadn’t always followed through with those consequences. The same could not be said for Faelind. He never failed to deliver a consequence. At the time, Lutha had liked Feredir’s way of managing. He had thought it wonderful that he could charm his way out of trouble with the young Elder, and for Feredir’s part he had never seemed to mind letting Lutha off unless his safety had been compromised. But now, Lutha wasn’t so sure that Feredir’s way was best. At least not for him. He always knew where he stood with Faelind. He knew that he could expect one warning, and one warning only – “because that _was_ your last chance, little boy,” Faelind had replied a few weeks ago, when Lutha had asked him why he couldn’t have another chance to behave – and if he ignored that warning then he went over his guardian’s knee for a thorough but controlled spanking. That consistency, not having any fear or doubt about what would happen, was almost…reassuring.

_And yet._ For Lutha there remained one source of uncertainty. He thought of it most nights as he lay in bed waiting to drift off to sleep, because he had become desperate to talk to Faelind about it, but he just couldn’t. It wasn’t that Faelind would be upset – at least not with Lutha. It would simply be a horrible discussion for both of them, and Lutha tried to avoid horrible discussions where he could. Besides, he didn’t even know where to start. It wasn’t the sort of thing that one brought up in polite conversation. Even a former thief knew that; and thieves, former or otherwise, were not always known for their good manners.

Eleven o’clock came and went, and then midnight, and the door handle quietly moved just after midnight as it always did. Lutha curled into a ball and ducked his head down, holding his breath. He heard the door open, and from under his lashes he saw a thin stream of light trickle in from the hallway and illuminate the tall figure standing there. Then, the light started to narrow as the figure took a step back and pulled the door behind him. Without giving himself time to think and change his mind, Lutha sat up in bed. “Elder Faelind.”

There was a pause, and then Faelind pushed the door open further again. “Luthavar,” he said softly. “Go back to sleep. I did not intend to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” Lutha whispered into the darkness. “I was already awake.”

“Then try to sleep,” Faelind replied. “It is late for elflings to be up.”

Lutha got out of bed and padded across to the door, brushing his hair out of his eyes with the back of his hand. “You didn’t wake me tonight. But I’m a light sleeper. I’ve woken on other nights when you have opened the door to watch me sleeping. Some nights I’m already awake and I’ve just pretended to be asleep like tonight. You do this every night.”

“It bothers you,” Faelind quietly concluded.

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Shaking his head, Lutha huffed in frustration. “I’ve seen this before. An open door, a person watching me from across the room until finally they get the courage to come to my bed even if it takes them a year of waiting.”

Staring down at his young ward, Faelind’s usually calm expression was replaced by parted lips and pupils dilated in shock. “What are you asking me, Luthavar?”

“Nothing,” Lutha whispered. “You’re not like them. I know that, I believe it. But when I hear the door opening or I see your silhouette in the lamplight, it brings it back and the memories make me scared. I think you should know that. I want to be honest with you.”

“You believe that I am not like them because you know me,” Faelind said, and he still looked shaken. “But it has taken you time to know me and trust me. What did you think before?”

“That you might be like them.” Lutha was ashamed of the tears that stung his eyes and of the unreadable expression that his words brought to Faelind’s face. What if this ruined everything, he thought, feeling a deep-down stab of anguish. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”

Faelind shook his head quietly. “Come with me, little boy. Downstairs. Now.” He turned on his heel and strode away down the hallway, leaving Lutha no choice but to follow.

When Lutha got downstairs it was to find Faelind already in the kitchen. He was making mint tea more loudly than necessary, setting the cups down on the counter with sharp clatters that made Lutha flinch. The elfling sat in his usual chair, wrapping his arms around himself and staring at the table. “Are you mad with me?” he made himself ask, his voice sounding small.

That made Faelind stop and breathe in deeply. “No,” he replied. “I am _mad_ with the people who hurt you.” He finished making the tea, taking care to be calmer and quieter, and after placing two cups on the table he left the kitchen. When he returned it was with a blanket from the living room. He wordlessly gave it to Lutha before sitting on the opposite side of the table. “You have seen this before,” he said, holding up his right hand with the back facing outward.

Lutha paused in wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. Whatever he had expected Faelind to start with, it hadn’t been that. He nodded slowly, his eyes on the ring that Faelind wore on his right ring finger. The band was _mithril_ and the smooth ruby at the centre was surrounded by dozens of tiny diamond chips. Lutha had secretly wondered how much it would sell for. Not that he had ever intended to act on that musing. It had just been an old habit.

“You may have seen it, but you do not know its purpose,” Faelind said quietly. “I want you to ask me the colour of the sky. Don’t look at me like that, Luthavar. Just do it.”

“What…what colour is the sky?” Lutha asked, feeling stupid.

“The sky is green,” Faelind replied evenly. He kept his hand in the same position and the ruby pulsed, darkening from poppy-red to the shade of wine spilled on a white tablecloth. He nodded as Lutha’s eyes went round. “Now ask me the same question.”

Lutha swallowed, his gaze fixed on the ring. “What colour is the sky?”

“The sky is blue.” And just like that the ruby lightened again as if it had never changed colour. Faelind lowered his hand and rested it on the table with the ring remaining on show. “Different gemstones possess different qualities. The ruby has many, and among them it is considered to be of use in the resolution of disputes. You can see why that would be helpful in my profession. But this ruby, Luthavar, was blessed at the Temple. It will reveal a lie for what it is. So if you doubt anything that I say to you, tonight or at any time, look at the ring and you will see the truth. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Lutha said slowly. “I understand.”

“Very well.” Faelind took a breath and let it out slowly, keeping the hand that was wearing the ring on the table and wrapping his other hand around his cup of mint tea. “I trained to become a Protector of Greenwood as soon as I was old enough though not because I wished to _be_ a Protector. I would have been happy travelling with my mother and running around the forest, causing trouble.”

“You, trouble?” Lutha repeated doubtfully.

Faelind smiled but it was a pretend one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Those things were not acceptable to my father. Nothing would do but that I studied the law with him and followed in his footsteps. He was not cruel but he was autocratic and severe, and I was rebellious. It was a poor combination. We were so often at odds that I was desperate not to spend any more time with him than I must, and so began my career as a Protector. But, before even that, I had fallen in love with Midhaearien. You have seen her paintings, her sunshine hair and her eyes like a summer sky. She was free spirited and wild. She could never be tamed, though I never wanted to.”

“She sounds nice,” Lutha ventured.

“Yes. She was…” Faelind’s voice trailed away into nothing and he had to take a moment to gather himself. “We married young. Too young, though it didn’t matter to us. The years that we spent together were the happiest that I have ever known. She was a healer and I a warrior, but all that we lived for was each other. The rest of the world barely existed. If ever we quarrelled it was over her restless tendency to slip away in the middle of the night. I would find her curled in the boughs of a tree, or swimming under the moonlight in some pool a mile from home. Most of the time I just joined in her whimsical madness.” Faelind drifted into silence, exhaling slowly as he stared down into the depths of his fragrant tea. “Some years later, I took a captaincy.”

“You don’t sound like it made you happy,” Lutha said softly.

That made Faelind look up with a bitter smile. “A lesson for you, little boy. Work because you enjoy it. Not because it pays well. I took the captaincy because Midhaearien wished for children. I had no desire to ever rely on my father’s wealth to raise any elflings that might be born to us. But the responsibilities that came with being a Captain-Protector meant long hours, more work at night, and even more time away from home leading border patrols and campaigns in the north. I had never tried to tell my wife what to do. But as I spent less and less time at home, I asked her to promise that she wouldn’t go out wandering in the middle of the night without me there to find her. The forest has always been safe, but still, we must respect that it can be dangerous. Midhaearien trusted it implicitly. And so all she could manage to me was a promise that she would do her best. I could ask no more than that.”

Silence fell as Faelind drank his mint tea, buying himself time before it became necessary to resume his tale. “One summer I was on night duty dealing with a pile of reports that had built up on my desk. The night was hot and unusually humid for Greenwood. It made my head hurt so that I could barely focus. I went home early and I found Midhaearien not there. I was sore and tired, and part of me was even upset with her for being gone, and so I went to our bed and supposed that she would return in the morning. She did not. Still, I wasn’t worried. In my mind she was just visiting her sisters or helping to rescue some animal. It was normal. It was her.”

“Did she ever come back?” Lutha asked softly.

“No, little boy. She never came back. I went to look for her that evening. All her favourite places. She was nowhere,” Faelind said, his gaze distant. “As I wandered the forest, I felt it; the sundering of our bond. I felt her death. It was quick. But the strangest thing – I simply kept walking. I knew that she was gone, but I did not weep or sink to my knees. I just walked and I kept looking until I found her blood stained cloak tossed in a rose bush. I sat there on the floor with it, and that was where they found me many hours later.”

“But what about her?” Lutha whispered.

“What about her?” Faelind echoed. “Her body was never found. Her murderer was never found. If he was mortal, he is long gone. If he is of our kind…well, perhaps one day.” Meeting Lutha’s eyes across the table, piercing green locked on smoky grey, Faelind took a deep breath. “You may not have asked me the question, Luthavar. But I swear, you are always safe in this house. You are safe with me. When I open your bedroom door at night, it is for my peace of mind so that I know you are safe in your bed and not out there alone in the dark. That is the only reason. I have lost too much and will lose no more.”

Lutha didn’t need to look at the ring to know Faelind’s words for truth, but as he nodded quietly he saw in his peripheral vision that the ruby was a steady shade of poppy-red. “I understand,” he said softly, and just then a thought occurred to him. “That night when I got lost in the woods and I ran into you, Feredir told me that you walk around at night to protect people. Is that true?”

“It was true. Now I am responsible for the care of an elfling and so my place is here,” Faelind replied dryly. “I used to walk the forest at night because for all I know, the person or people responsible for my wife’s death are still out there. I cannot guard the entire forest. That is for the Protectors to do. But the Protectors were no good to Midhaearien when she needed help. Perhaps a lone elf out for a midnight walk would have been. Besides,” Faelind added quietly, sounding as though he was about to confess to something, “being under the moon and the stars where she once walked made me feel closer to her.”

It was difficult for Lutha to know what to say. He thought that reaching across the table and taking Faelind’s hand might be a nice thing to do but he wasn’t sure if that was acceptable. While he was sitting there thinking about it, there was a knock on the back door so sharp that it made him jump. Sitting up straight, he watched with wide eyes as Faelind calmly got up and walked to the far corner of the kitchen to unlock and open the door. The ellon who strode in was about the same height as Faelind but of stockier build, and his simple clothing was at odds with Faelind’s always elegant and refined wardrobe. Over grey leggings and a sleeveless tunic of pale green, the ellon wore an earthy brown cloak. His dark brown hair was tied back with a rough strip of leather, save for a few strands that were loose and hanging down by hard brown eyes that reminded Lutha of walnuts.

“I think this is yours,” he said gruffly, thrusting something familiar at Faelind.

Faelind automatically put his hands up and accepted the fluffy white cat. “Yes, she is mine. Why do you have her, Echuiaeron?”

“Because the damn thing got herself stuck in my garden shed,” replied the ellon called Echuiaeron.

“Thank you for returning her,” Faelind said, setting his cat down on the floor.

“I couldn’t stand the yowling a minute longer,” Echuiaeron retorted. He stared at Fanuilos as she jumped onto a chair at the table and began delicately cleaning her face with her paw. “Soft lap cats like that ought to stay inside and leave the woods to the real cats.”

“I shall be sure to tell her so,” Faelind replied.

Echuiaeron just snorted to that and turned to the door. There he paused and glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing as they fell on Lutha. “It’s after midnight, Faelind. That boy ought to be in bed.”

“He will be,” Faelind said evenly.

Lutha stared as Echuiaeron strode out into the darkness, pulling the door shut behind him with a loud bang. “Who was that?” the elfling asked incredulously. “What just happened?”

“That,” Faelind replied sardonically, locking the door, “was my father-in-law. You are usually abed when he comes by.”

“He’s so grumpy,” Lutha whispered.

“He was not always. Midhaearien’s death changed us all. We both lost her that day, but Echuiaeron lost much more than a daughter,” Faelind said. “His wife was so broken that she sailed into the West, taking with her their younger daughters and their little son. Echuiaeron vowed to remain here until he discovered the truth of his firstborn child’s death. And so he remains.”

“Do you think he will ever find out the truth?” Lutha asked softly. “That either of you will?”

“Centuries have passed and we are not close to it. Still, I have to believe that one day we will know.” Faelind sighed quietly before gathering himself and focusing on Lutha. “Echuiaeron was right. It is time for you to go back to bed, little boy.”

“Can I have another question?” Lutha asked quickly.

“You may,” Faelind allowed. “One more.”

“You were so desperate not to be like your father and study the law but you still ended up here,” Lutha said. “Why? Because you wanted to find the people who did that to your wife and punish them?”

For the first time since they had started talking, Faelind looked like he was unsure how to answer. Finally, he gave a slow shake of his head. “No. No, Luthavar. When they found me with her cloak, they arrested me.”

“What? Why?” Lutha demanded.

“Because a young elleth was dead and the only evidence was her husband holding her blood stained cloak,” Faelind said briefly. “The fact that I had left my duties early on the night of Midhaearien’s disappearance did not look well for me. You have heard us say that Greenwood is safe, a place where terrible crime is a rarity. That is true. This sent ripples of shock and fear through the whole forest, and the highest ranking among the Protectors wished to put a stop to it. They built the case against me quickly. My father had to recuse himself from it. He stepped back from it,” Faelind added, when Lutha looked blankly at him. “He could not preside over a murder trial involving his own son.”

“But you…you weren’t found guilty?” Lutha asked, unable to shake the shock that had reverberated through him.

“No. Midhaearien spent the night of her disappearance dancing and singing in The Mysterious Deer, and when she left the inn long after my senior officers confirmed that I went off duty, three separate witnesses saw her walking away from our home in the direction of a pool that she favoured,” Faelind said. “Others spoke to vouch for my character. A colleague of my father’s came from Lindon to the west of here to serve as my legal advocate, and she tore the case to shreds. I was found not guilty and released.” Faelind sighed, a heavy and slow breath that came from deep within him. “I did not and I do not now bear any grudge against the Protectors. They did what they thought was right. Still, I never again wished to see such injustice in this forest. I went to my father and I asked him to teach me. Here we are today.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Lutha said quietly. He didn’t know what else he could say. “I…I had no idea. About any of it.”

“Of course not. Now you know the truth and perhaps it shall help you to understand me better,” Faelind replied. “Now, you have asked your one question. No more tonight. Bed, Luthavar.”

Lutha knew better than to push, but as he stood up from the table his mind was still reeling. He looked at the kitchen door, only to hesitate and turn back. “I’m sorry, Elder Faelind,” he said, and before he could talk himself out of it he stepped forward and hugged Faelind. He felt rather than heard Faelind’s barely audible breath of surprise. For a moment he thought that the Elder might not return the hug at all – and that was fine, he stubbornly told himself – but then Faelind put one arm around Lutha’s shoulders and gently patted his back.

“It is well, little boy,” Faelind murmured. “Now, bed. I won’t tell you again.”

“Goodnight,” Lutha whispered, drawing back.

Not a bit of the conversation had been easy for Lutha or Faelind, and it had gone in awful directions that Lutha would never have imagined. Even so, he was glad of it. It had explained the enigma that was Faelind, and reframed Lutha’s feelings about the opening of his bedroom door at night, turning something dark and sinister into something caring and good from a person who wished only to protect him. That was why, when Faelind quietly checked on him again later that night, Lutha remained fast asleep. So it was every night thereafter when the bedroom door opened marginally and Faelind glanced in for the reassurance of knowing that his young ward was safe, and that for one more night at least, all was well.


	9. The Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lutha is surprised by one familiar face and one not so familiar face. Meanwhile, there are decisions to be made and an old feud to be settled once and for all.

“Well, what do we have here?”

Lutha had heard the snap of a twig breaking underfoot but it was the voice intruding on his peace that made him catch his breath. He slowly set down his book, closing the pages on the reading that Elder Angoliel had set for him. Hardly daring to believe it, but wanting to with every part of him, he looked up at the ellon standing a short distance away. Before he even knew what he was doing, Lutha was on his feet and closing the distance between them. “You’re back!”

“I’m back,” Elder Feredir laughed, pulling his former charge in for a rough hug. “Sorry I didn’t send word ahead. I wanted to surprise you.”

“You have surprised me. This is the best surprise,” Lutha replied joyously. “I’m so happy that the wolves didn’t eat you.”

Feredir grinned at that and dropped a kiss atop the elfling’s before holding him at arm’s length. “Me too. But what about you? I see a healthy shine in your eyes. You’re gaining weight and I think you may have even grown an inch.”

“I don’t think you’re meant to say about weight,” Lutha retorted. “It’s rude.”

“Oh, please! You still look like a stray breeze would knock you over. But last time I saw you, a stray breeze would have snapped you in half for you were nothing but skin and bone.” Feredir shook his head, his moss green eyes softening. “You look good, Lutha. Really good.”

“It’s Luthavar now,” Lutha offered.

That made Feredir raise his eyebrows in thoughtful surprise. “Is it? Fair enough. It suits you.”

“But you can call me Lutha. I’m still him. I mean me,” Lutha said. “Luthavar is for when people ask what Lutha is short for. And I guess for old and stuffy people who think I need a _real_ name. You’re not old and stuffy. Well, perhaps you are now as you were gone _forever_ ,” he added, giving Feredir an accusing look.

“Four months isn’t forever. But don’t worry, I’m still me too,” Feredir replied. He put a hand on Lutha’s shoulder and guided him back to the bench. As they sat down, the hunter picked up the book that Lutha had discarded and studied it approvingly. “Reading as well. You _have_ changed.”

A blush coloured Lutha’s cheeks as he took the book back and held it defensively against his chest. “Elder Angoliel gave me reading for my homework.”

“Show me,” Feredir prompted the elfling.

“I don’t want to,” Lutha said, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s bad.”

“Lutha,” Feredir said in fond exasperation. “I left behind a boy who didn’t know the alphabet. Now I come home to find you with a book in your hands. Please, show me.”

With a heavy sigh, Lutha opened the book and flicked through the pages until he reached the one that he had been on. “But you can’t laugh if I get it wrong.”

“Never,” Feredir promised softly.

Lutha nodded, and he stared at the words on the page for a moment before starting to read aloud. No longer did those words swim on the page, blurring his vision, making him dizzy and frustrated, though he still had to take it slowly. _“Those who had survived left the ruins of Doriath under the lead…leader…ship…leadership of the Sindar prince Cel-eb-orn and his kinsmen the lords Amdír and Oro…Oro…_ ”

“Oropher,” Feredir supplied, as the elfling faltered.

“Yes, him,” Lutha agreed. “ _They travelled to_ -”

“Say it,” Feredir gently interjected.

Though Lutha sighed, he dutifully backtracked a bit. “ _And his kinsmen the lords Amdír and Oropher. They travelled to the Havens of Sirion where they were granted safe harbour by Lord Círdan._ ”

“That’s wonderful!” Feredir enthused, putting his arm around Lutha and squeezing him. “I’m so proud of you.”

The praise made Lutha squirm a little. “I can write too. Well, a little.”

“Good,” Feredir replied with a warm smile. “You’re doing so well.”

“Did you ever meet any of them?” Lutha asked hastily, to stop Feredir saying so many nice things about him. “All those great lords.”

“The lords? Oh. A couple of them,” Feredir said, suitably distracted. “Amdír rules in Lórien now. I went with Elder Thureneth on one of her trade visits to the Golden Wood. I didn’t have official business there. I was just curious. Thureneth introduced me to Aran Amdír. He was nice enough. A little…hmm, guarded, I suppose. Lord Celeborn was there at the same time. He seemed interested in me and the Greenwood, and he asked many questions. I found him pleasant, and as noble an elf as you could imagine. He reminded me a little of Elder Rethedir, actually. Just a bit less…you know.”

Lutha nodded. He knew. “What about the others?”

“I’ve never had cause to meet Lord Círdan,” Feredir replied. “I have not met Lord Oropher. I don’t think any of us have.”

“Did he die?” Lutha asked. He shrugged as Feredir stared at him. “What? I skipped ahead a bit in the story. I know that those Noldor went after the Sindar again.”

Feredir shook his head, looking torn between amusement and exasperation. “Lord Oropher didn’t die. And it’s not a story, Lutha. It is a thing that happened. A very sad thing.”

“Yes, but these things happened more than two thousand years before I was born. They haven't impacted my life so to me it’s just a story,” Lutha said patiently. “And the _moral_ of the story is that if someone steals your nice shiny jewels, you just give them up as a lost cause instead of killing hundreds of innocent people to get them back. Or…hmm, I don’t know if that’s a moral. It’s just a thing that everyone should know. Don’t you think?”

“That’s difficult to argue with,” Feredir conceded. “Anyway, I’m glad to see that you have taken such an interest in history. We’ll make sure that you keep up with lessons once we get you settled back at home.” The young Elder paused then, his brow creasing in concern as Lutha looked away with a sigh. “Lutha?” he asked softly. “I promised you that when I came back, I would take you home with me. Is that not what you want?”

“I loved living with you. I really did,” Lutha said quietly. “But I want to stay here.”

“Then stay here,” Feredir replied.

“You’re angry with me,” Lutha whispered.

“What? Of course I’m not. If staying here is really what you want then I’ll support you,” Feredir said, giving the elfling a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “But…Lutha, are you sure?”

Lutha nodded slowly, his front teeth nibbling anxiously at his lower lip. “I’ve thought about it. I know that I won’t stay with Elder Faelind forever. Nithaniel will get me adopted. She says when I’m ready, however long that will take. But while I’m in the care of the Elders, I don’t want to keep moving. What if I go back to your house and you get called away again? I won’t be able to go with you and I’ll just get sent to someone else. Besides, I…well, I like Elder Faelind. And I think he likes me now.”

“I understand. You must do what is right for you, though I’ll miss having you around,” Feredir said. “Just promise that you’ll visit me. I meant what I said before I left; you’ll always have a room at my house.”

“I’d like that.” Lutha paused then and reached inside his shirt, pulling out a familiar amber necklace on a leather cord. “Look, Feredir. I didn’t take it off.”

“Oh, well,” Feredir replied lightly. “That means you and I are stuck together forever.”

“That’s all right,” Lutha said. “I don’t think I’m going anywhere.”

Feredir gave the elfling a perceptive look. “Neither do I.”

“Luthavar?”

The voice breaking into their conversation made Feredir and Lutha look up to see Elder Faelind standing at the back door to his house. He had gone still, his eyes fixed on Feredir, but then he stirred and stepped out into the garden. “Feredir,” he greeted his young colleague with a faint smile. “I am pleased to see you returned safely. I expect that you have come to collect your charge, then?”

Lutha wasn’t sure but he thought that he had heard a note of…well, maybe not disappointment in Faelind’s voice, but at least something that might have been resignation. If Feredir had heard the same thing, he gave no sign of it as he stood up with a smile. “My _former_ charge. Lutha remains yours, Faelind.”

“You wish to stay, little boy?” Faelind asked, surprised.

“If that’s all right,” Lutha replied guardedly.

Faelind stared at him for a long moment before giving himself a small shake. “Yes. Yes, of course you may stay with me.”

Now Lutha thought that Faelind sounded almost relieved. He would have liked that, but he supposed that he could have just heard what he wanted to hear. “You see?” Feredir was saying, with a reassuring smile for Lutha. “It’s fine. Just don’t keep him all to yourself, Faelind.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Faelind replied.

“Good,” Feredir said, glancing sideways at Lutha and giving him an older-brotherly sort of wink. “Well, I should hunt down my apprentice. I hope Alphros will be as pleased to see me as you were, Lutha.”

“He will. He came home from visiting his family last month and he’s been so bored,” Lutha said.

Feredir grimaced at that, and with another hug for Lutha and a respectful nod for Faelind, he took his leave of them to go and rescue Alphros. When Lutha had watched Feredir out of sight, he looked back to see Elder Faelind regarding him with a thoughtful expression. “You truly wish to stay here with me?” Faelind asked neutrally.

“Yes please,” Lutha replied. “I’m glad that you don’t want to be rid of me.”

“Hmm. I do not. Still, you may not be so glad of that when I have said what I came out here to say.” Faelind folded his arms over his chest and levelled a look at his ward. “Protector Amathlogon stopped me this morning as I arrived at the palace.”

“The not-palace,” Lutha said under his breath.

“The not-palace,” Faelind agreed with a trace of impatience. “It seems that someone has been throwing pinecones at his son. Would you happen to know anything about that?”

“About pinecones?”

“These pinecones in particular,” Faelind replied.

“Oh. I don’t know anything about any pinecones,” Lutha said, idly wondering what shade of red the ruby in Faelind’s truth ring was.

“Really,” Faelind said flatly. “So the fact that Protector Amathlogon’s son happens to be Raegalas, with whom you fought the day after your arrival here in Greenwood, and who you have told me has behaved unpleasantly towards you since then, is a coincidence. Is that it?”

Lutha shrugged and opened his book to a random page. “I guess so.”

_“Luthavar.”_

“What?” Lutha demanded. “You’ve told me I can’t bite. You’ve never said anything about throwing pinecones.”

“I did not realise that it was necessary,” Faelind retorted.

“Well, anyway. I didn’t throw the pinecones at him. Just sort of in his direction. One of them landed near his feet and he did this little hop. It was so funny.” Lutha laughed, pleased with himself, though he hesitated when Faelind just looked at him. “And very wrong.”

“Yes, it was wrong,” Faelind agreed. “And I know that you know better. You do not take matters into your own hands. You _tell_ me if you have a problem.”

“I did tell you!” Lutha protested. “And he stopped being an idiot for about a month after I told you and then he just started again.”

“So you tell me again and let me handle it with consequences more severe than the elfling received last time,” Faelind said firmly. “You need to learn to rise above things, Luthavar.”

“I can’t, I’m short,” Lutha snapped.

Faelind pressed his lips together in a way that Lutha would have thought was meant to hold back laughter if Faelind was anyone other than…well, Faelind. Then the Elder covered his mouth with one hand, coughed lightly, and fixed a particularly stern look on the elfling. “None of that, little boy,” he said severely. “Take yourself inside to the study. Immediately.”

With a growl of frustration and a toss of his dark hair, Lutha jumped up from the bench and ran inside through the back door. He dropped his book on the kitchen table on his way to the study. It wasn’t fair, he thought, flinging himself onto the window seat because Faelind could think again if he thought that he would enter the study to find Lutha in the corner. It wasn’t fair because none of the pinecones had actually hit Raegalas. They had only ever landed near him or flown through the air above his head before landing in some tree. Stupid pinecones, Lutha raged silently. Stupid Protector Amathlogon, and most of all stupid Raegalas, and stupid…no. Lutha couldn’t bring himself to think stupid Elder Faelind.

He pulled his feet up and wrapped his arms around his knees, staring moodily over them as Faelind swept into the study and shut the door. The Elder nodded briefly at the sight of Lutha in the window seat. That often saw use in his discipline of Lutha. It was where he sent Lutha to sit or lie down when the elfling was too angry to stand in the corner but still needed somewhere quiet to calm down and reflect.

“Tell me what Raegalas has said and done,” Faelind commanded his ward.

“No,” Lutha said sullenly. “Because you’ll talk to his father and it will stop but then it will start again like it did this time. There’s no point.”

“Luthavar, I will discuss this with Protector Amathlogon whether you tell me the truth or not,” Faelind said. “That discussion will be much easier if I can give him examples of his son’s behaviour.”

“But it won’t make any difference because Raegalas is his son and he doesn’t even like me!” Lutha argued. “That first day at the not-palace, he kept pulling me around and smacking me. He probably agrees with everything that stupid Raegalas says. He won’t do anything to stop it.”

“That is _not_ true,” Faelind said immediately. “Raegalas has been disciplined after every altercation that he has had with you. Protector Amathlogon is a good ellon with decent values that do not allow for any son of his to be name calling and bullying another elfling. The first day at the palace…the not-palace,” Faelind amended, before Lutha could interrupt and do it for him, “Protector Amathlogon did not know your circumstances. He was doing his job as he thought was right. Now tell me, Luthavar, so that he can do his job as a father and put a stop to this once and for all.”

Lutha sighed and looked down, hugging his knees more tightly against his chest. “If I see Raegalas in town, he says things so I can hear like how he feels sorry for elflings that don’t have any parents. Or I’ll walk past him and he’ll step hard into a puddle so it splashes my clothes. One time he was with his little sister and as soon as he saw me he started telling her a story about this boy called the Prince of Thieves. It’s just little things but lots of them all the time.”

“Has he hurt you?” Faelind asked quietly. “Pushed you? Touched you at all?”

“No,” Lutha replied. “Nothing like that.”

Faelind nodded, staying silent as he stood there deep in thought. Finally, he gave another brief nod. “Very well. Thank you for telling me. I will speak to Protector Amathlogon. While I shall assure him that you have been disciplined for your retaliation, I shall make it exceedingly clear to him that he must put a stop to his son’s behaviour or more formal steps will be taken. An elfling cannot be arrested for bullying, but a judicial birching can be called for. If necessary, that will be the next step in this matter.”

“Do you think that will make Raegalas stop?” Lutha asked.

“I think that Protector Amathlogon will wish to avoid the matter being dealt with formally. I have every faith that he will handle his son robustly enough that there will be no need to take it any further.” Faelind paused then, and gave his ward a long look. “I understand that being targeted by Raegalas has been difficult for you. I do not take away from you that he has behaved in a way intended to deliberately cause distress. However, you had a responsibility to disclose this. You could have spoken to me, or any of the other Elders, or Nestorion. You know this, Luthavar. Feredir told you so after your fight with Raegalas and his friends. When you have come to me since and told me that you were having more problems with Raegalas, I encouraged you to tell me again if it continued even after I spoke with Amathlogon. You did not. Now here we are.”

“Yes, now here we are, and you’re going to punish me just because I didn’t say anything,” Lutha said.

“It is certainly my hope that in the future you do better at not keeping things to yourself,” Faelind acknowledged. “But this is about the throwing of the pinecones as well.”

“They didn’t hit Raegalas!” Lutha protested.

Faelind raised his hand slightly to quiet the elfling. “Just as well for you that they did not. If your aim had been off and you had caught Raegalas or a bystander in the face, we would be having a very different conversation. A pinecone landing on the floor could have spooked a horse or sent a chip of rock flying through a window. You must think about the consequences of doing things before you turn your thoughts into actions.”

“So you’re going to punish me for things that _didn’t_ happen,” Lutha concluded.

“I am going to punish you for reckless behaviour in the hope that it encourages you to _think_ in the future,” Faelind said sharply. “So, firstly you will go to your writing desk and copy the lines that I set for you. That will suffice for today’s writing practice. While you are doing that, I shall pay a visit to Protector Amathlogon. Upon my return we shall have a late lunch together, after which you will be spanked and put to bed for the rest of the afternoon. Do you understand, little boy?”

“Why are you giving me fifty punishments for the same thing?” Lutha demanded.

“Luthavar,” Faelind began.

“Three punishments then,” Lutha said irritably.

“After the exertion of writing lines and having your bottom soundly smacked, I expect you shall be glad to get into bed,” Faelind replied dryly, not blinking as his words earned him a sullen glare. “As to the rest, I am giving you one punishment made up of two components. Two parts,” he clarified, as Lutha took a breath. “By all means if you think it unfair, you may say so calmly and respectfully. You may not argue or be rude.”

“Then I just won’t say anything ever,” Lutha declared.

Faelind’s lips twitched in what may have been the hint of a smile, but it was gone again as quickly as it had appeared. “Very well. In that case, go to your desk.”

Sighing, Lutha got up from the window seat and crossed the study to the smaller writing desk at the side of the room. That desk hadn’t always been there; Faelind had put it there for the times when he was busy working and Lutha came to join him in the study and do homework for Elder Angoliel. The fact that the desk was sometimes used for line writing was just incidental. While Lutha sat down and hooked his feet behind the chair legs, Faelind sat at his own desk and began writing. When he got up and approached Lutha after, it was with a piece of paper on which he had written two lines.

“Twelve of each,” he said briefly.

“When I’m really good at writing, will you make me write hundreds of lines?” Lutha asked.

“When writing comes more easily to you, I expect the number of lines that you write will have to increase,” Faelind agreed. “Though not by hundreds.” He rested his hand on Lutha’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “Start now, Luthavar. I will not be displeased if you are still writing when I get back, so don’t rush.”

Lutha nodded, and he watched Faelind leave before picking up his quill and dipping it into the pot of blue ink that sat on the desk. He carefully began copying out the first of the lines that Faelind had written for him. _I must remember to ask for help instead of taking matters into my own hands._ Some of the letters came more easily to him than others, and it took him a full minute to write the line out. He was grateful to Faelind for not making it any longer.

Just as Lutha finished the first set of twelve lines and moved onto the second, he heard the sound of a door opening somewhere in the house. Maybe Faelind was already back from visiting Protector Amathlogon, although Lutha didn’t think that more than half an hour had passed since his guardian had left. He supposed that it could be Meluinis the cook, or Lothwen who came every other day with her apprentice to clean and do laundry. Or maybe even Faelind’s grumpy father-in-law Echuiaeron; he sometimes strode into the house and dropped a parcel or a box of fruit from his garden onto the table before striding back out again with barely a grunt in greeting. Finally, curiosity got the better of Lutha. Picking up his paper, he left the study and crept softly down the hallway towards the kitchen.

Facing away from the door and gazing through the window out to the back garden was a tall elleth with rich hair the colour of mahogany. It was bound back from her face by a golden circlet, and at her waist was a belt of cleverly engraved gold discs. As Lutha stared at her, he realised that she was watching his reflection in the window. He stiffened, and the elleth turned to face him. Swirling around the edges of her wide sleeves was intricate white embroidery. The gown itself was a deep forest green with a slit down the centre of the skirt, which showed off the silver-and-white underskirt beneath. Lutha slowly ran his eyes over the outfit, taking in the fine fabric and the colours that went so well together, until finally he focused on the elleth’s beautiful face. She smiled, but her laurel gaze as it rested on him was deep and thoughtful.

Lutha was the first to break the silence. “Have you come here to steal? You shouldn’t do that.”

“Echuiaeron said that Faelind had a new pet,” the elleth replied dryly. “So you’re it, are you?”

Lutha stared back at her through narrowed eyes. “Do I look like a pet?”

“I expect not. Let me see, what did Echuiaeron say…ah, yes. A small dark haired thing, pretty but feisty, and in need of a firm hand,” the elleth said. “He told me to watch out for the biting.”

“It’s pinecones now,” Lutha said.

“That sounds like an improvement. Well, I hope you will forgive Echuiaeron his joke. We likely shan’t hear another one for a hundred years.” The elleth paused, her head tilted curiously as she regarded the elfling, before adding, “I am Elder Thureneth.”

“Elder Faelind didn’t tell me that you were going to be here,” Lutha said suspiciously.

“He did not know. I was due home next week but my travels came to an end earlier than anticipated,” Thureneth replied.

Like a wary forest creature, Lutha kept his eyes on Faelind’s mother as he circled around her to reach the biscuit jar. She returned his gaze while he reached in and removed a handful of biscuits. “It’s allowed,” he told her defiantly.

“I did not say it was not, elfling.” Thureneth folded her arms and regarded Lutha. “I have told you who I am. Who are you?”

Lutha’s eyes glittered. “Elder Faelind’s new pet.”

“Such insolence,” Thureneth said with a roll of her eyes and a reluctant smile. “Now, what is your name? And where is my son?”

“My name is Lutha. Luthavar. But mostly Lutha.” The elfling cautiously pushed the jar of biscuits towards Thureneth. “Elder Faelind went out. He’ll be back soon.”

“Very well. And how did you come to be here, Luthavar?” Thureneth asked, as she accepted a biscuit.

“I moved in and I didn’t move back out.” Lutha shifted his gaze away from Thureneth. He knew that she was watching him steadily, knew that she wanted more information than he could give. “Elder Faelind says I don’t have to talk about before if I don’t want to. You can ask him and he can tell you, but I don’t have to. Anyway, you disturbed me. I have to go now.”

“And finish your lines?” Thureneth asked, nodding to the paper that Lutha was holding with the lines facing outwards. “How did those happen?”

“Because,” Lutha sighed, turning the paper and reading from it, “throwing pinecones at people is not an acceptable alternative to biting.”

Thureneth laughed at that. Hers was a real laugh, not like Faelind’s small smile and soft chuckle. “I daresay. Why were you throwing pinecones?”

“Because people upset me and they don’t stop or go away when they’re told to,” Lutha complained. “If they don’t want pinecones thrown at them, they should leave me alone.”

“That sounds fair,” Thureneth conceded.

Lutha brightened. “Yes, it does. You could tell Elder Faelind that.”

“It is not for me to interfere.” Looking thoughtfully at the elfling, Thureneth pushed the jar of biscuits back towards him. “Are you apprenticing to my son, then? If so he should be Master Faelind to you, not Elder Faelind.”

As quickly as Lutha had brightened, his demeanour darkened like the roiling of black clouds on a tentative summer’s day. “Nobody is my master! Not Elder Faelind, not anyone.”

“Forgive me. I spoke out of turn,” Thureneth soothed him. “But Luthavar…what do you mean? What happened to you, little one?”

“I have to finish my lines in the study,” Lutha whispered, clutching his paper. “Elder Faelind told me to stand in the corner there when I’m done.”

As Elder Thureneth nodded wordlessly, her expression troubled, Lutha backed out of the kitchen and hastened back to the safety of the study. He had told a lie, he thought, his hands shaking as he pushed the door shut. Faelind didn’t expect him to stand in the corner at all. But the lie had just come out. He had needed to be away from Thureneth and her questions, and her friendly green eyes which had looked so worried for him.

By the time Elder Faelind returned home, Lutha had finished his lines and he had gone back to the window seat with his knees hugged close to his chest again. Faelind paused as he opened the study door. “You did not have to remain in here once you had finished writing your lines, little boy. I should have made that clear.”

“You didn’t have to. I know. But there’s a person,” Lutha said awkwardly.

“A person,” Faelind repeated, his eyebrows arching. “Where?”

Lutha pointed in the direction of the kitchen. He stood up as Faelind nodded and strode out of the study, and after a moment of deliberation he got up and followed his guardian. He heard a pleased exclamation, and as he stepped through the doorway and lingered there it was in time to see Thureneth and Faelind greeting each other with a warm embrace. Lutha thought that was probably the most emotion he had ever seen Faelind display.

“I did not expect to see you back in the Greenwood yet, Naneth,” Faelind was saying. “This is quite the surprise.”

“Your new acquisition was a surprise to me, ion nín, so I suppose we are even,” Thureneth replied mildly.

Lutha had never been called an acquisition before. He stepped further into the kitchen, noticing that Faelind had stopped whatever he was about to say. Deciding that he didn’t want to know what it was, Lutha looked at the table instead. Thureneth had been busy. She had set out a tray of sandwiches along with a platter of neatly cut vegetables and a small bowl of creamy dipping sauce redolent with herbs. There was sweet strawberry and apple tea, along with a pitcher of raspberry cordial. Lutha edged closer to the food, suddenly feeling very hungry.

“Sit down, Luthavar,” Faelind said, noticing his ward. “It seems that the two of you have met already. Though perhaps not in the way that I would have wished.”

“Echuiaeron told her that you had a new pet,” Lutha replied.

Faelind gave the smallest of eye-rolls. “Of course he did. And what do we say about Echuiaeron, little boy?”

“Don’t pay him any attention,” Lutha said dutifully.

That made Thureneth laugh, her eyes sparkling merrily as she pulled out a chair at the table and sat down. “Indeed. I like to think of Echuiaeron as an old tom cat. He’ll growl and grumble at you but he is quite harmless.” She paused then, and there was a lull in the conversation as Lutha and the Elders helped themselves to lunch. “I take it that you are not from around here, Luthavar,” Thureneth said finally.

Lutha hesitated, and Faelind smoothly filled the pause instead. “Tell us about your journey, Naneth. I have told Luthavar of your adventures but I expect it shall be more interesting coming directly from you.”

“The journey was well enough,” Thureneth replied, recognising the hint without acknowledging it. “My people and I travelled for a time with Dwarves making their way through the Hithaeglir. Many of them were warriors, making for Mount Gundabad in the hopes of retaking it from the foul creatures that dwell there. I do not believe that they succeeded. Others among their number were traders whose destination was Zigilgund in the north. Forochel, as we call it.”

“Elder Faelind showed me where that is on a map,” Lutha ventured. “It’s all the way at the top.”

“Indeed,” Thureneth agreed, sounding pleased. “Forochel is a beautiful and perilous land filled with many dangers. I once knew an ellon who journeyed there. He returned home to his family, though terribly scarred from an encounter with one of their great snow-bears. He was lucky to survive.”

“Why are they called snow-bears?” Lutha asked, while Faelind shook his head as if he didn’t understand why anyone would wish to visit such a place. “Are they white?”

“Not precisely,” Thureneth said, setting down the slice of cucumber that she had been about to eat. “Snow-bear fur has no colour at all, but light reflects off the fur and makes it appear white. Snow-bears are so called because they live in a land covered by snow and ice. Very little grows there, and the animals have warm fur and thick hides to protect them from the cold.”

Lutha dipped a slice of sweet red pepper into the creamy sauce and nibbled thoughtfully on the edge of it. “I don’t think I shall go there. I don’t like cold.”

“It takes some getting used to,” Thureneth acknowledged. “The cold is uncomfortable but the land is beautiful. Sometimes at night, the sky glows with ripples of colour in a show of light that one cannot see further south. The Lossoth, the people of Forochel, believe that it is a blessing from their gods.”

“Colours in the sky,” Lutha repeated. “Like in the book that you showed me, Elder Faelind?”

Though not an active participant in the conversation, Faelind had been listening quietly. He glanced up and gave his ward a brief nod. “Just so, little boy.”

“Most often they are green,” Thureneth added. “Though sometimes there are flashes of blue, purple, orange, and pink. It is quite a sight to see.”

Lutha looked doubtfully at her. He hadn’t entirely believed everything that he had seen in the book of Thureneth’s paintings. A person could paint whatever they liked. That didn’t mean that it had come from anywhere but their own imagination. “Is it true?” he asked finally, turning his gaze to Faelind. He trusted that Faelind wouldn’t lie to him.

“I have heard others speak of such things before,” Faelind replied. “I have not seen these lights, but if the moon can cover the sun and stars shoot across the sky then I can believe that strange colours appear in the sky somewhere in the world.”

“I just don’t know how the sky can be green and purple,” Lutha said, half to himself.

“It is possible that the Belain have something to do with it. The Lossoth certainly believe that it is the work of their gods,” Thureneth said. She smiled encouragingly at Lutha across the table. “Perhaps one day, if you change your mind about travelling that way, you will see for yourself.”

“Perhaps. I never went that far north before, but I went to Harad,” Lutha said suddenly.

“Is that so,” Thureneth murmured thoughtfully. “And how did you come to be in Harad?”

“Oh. My…my family, I suppose,” Lutha said cautiously. “They traded things.”

Thureneth nodded, her interest piqued. “What things?”

_Me._ For an absurd moment, Lutha wanted to laugh as he imagined what Thureneth would say if he spoke the truth. He shook his head slightly, dispelling the thought from his mind, and fleeting memories came back to him of his time with the Malik of Harad; the smell of spice mingled with citrus from the orange trees surrounding the palace, the midnight roars of the lions that had been the pride of the Malik’s menagerie, the bristling touch of the Malik’s beard which hadn’t felt nice but which Lutha had stopped caring about because the sweet smoke that he’d breathed in had made him stop caring about anything – even the pain. Though, the pain had always been there when he had woken every morning in a bed draped with silks.

The Malik, whose tastes ran to young boys, had paid highly to experience an elven boy. Lutha didn’t know exactly what the Clan had made from that transaction, but he supposed that it must have been worth the journey there because Father Thorir had been so happy after that he had pinched Lutha’s cheeks and told him well done. Lutha had got a cat out of the deal; a spotted cat with big ears and a furry coat. She had been a gift from the Malik himself. Lutha had let the cat go, though. Once she had started getting bigger and growling at the people who raised a fist or aimed a kick at him, her life had been in danger. Lutha hoped that she had found her way back to Harad or else met a nice boy cat to settle down and have kittens with.

“Luthavar,” Faelind prompted quietly, with an inflection that made it not quite a question.

“I don’t remember what things they traded,” Lutha said as he came back to himself. “I remember there were no funny lights in the sky but when we crossed the desert sometimes we saw water that wasn’t actually there. And one time there was a storm and all the sand in the air made the sky look red. We had to wear scarves so it didn’t go in our eyes and our mouths.”

“That sounds like Harad,” Thureneth said. “Worlds apart from Forochel, but both are beautiful in their own ways. Did you find Harad very hot, Luthavar?”

“Yes. Well, in the daytime. Sometimes at night it was freezing.” Lutha paused as he thought back, and a slow smile spread across his face. “My second oldest sister got sunburn on her ears. She was very pale and she looked so silly with these big red ears.”

“No doubt you found that quite amusing,” Thureneth replied, laughing softly. “It is a younger sibling’s duty to laugh at their elder brothers and sisters.”

Yes, it had been very funny. Lutha had made the mistake of laughing outright at Svala and her stupid red ears, which she had done her best to hide by pulling her hair down around them. Svala had screamed at him for laughing, but she hadn’t been allowed to punish him because Father Thorir had wanted him undamaged for the Malik. Lutha had enjoyed being able to laugh at Svala without consequence, even if he had known that she would get him on the way home. She hadn’t, though. She’d had too much else to think about after going with one of the palace guards and getting with child.

Talk soon turned to other matters, and eventually the table was cleared. Lutha had quite forgotten about what the rest of the afternoon had in store for him, at least until Faelind quietly spoke his name. Lutha often felt impressed by Faelind’s ability to clearly communicate a message simply by a word or a look, but he found himself not quite so pleased by it when it meant trouble for him. As if it would in any way change the situation, Lutha just picked up a carrot baton from the small plate of vegetables that had been left out and nibbled at the edge of it.

“Luthavar,” Faelind said, more sharply now. “Bed.”

“I can put myself to bed,” Lutha suggested.

On the other side of the table, Faelind took a deep breath as if he was working hard to keep hold of his patience. “Would you like me to remind you, here and now, why you are _not_ putting yourself to bed?”

“You wouldn’t,” Lutha said cautiously.

“Don’t challenge him,” Thureneth spoke up, laughing softly.

Lutha looked between the two Elders, and when Faelind just calmly arched one eyebrow at him, he sighed and got to his feet. Faelind nodded in quiet approval and stood up as well, resting a hand on Lutha’s shoulder as he guided him upstairs. When they reached the elfling’s room and were inside with the door shut behind them, Faelind paused, standing in front of Lutha and meeting his eyes. “Do you wish for us to talk about Harad?”

Reminding himself not to be surprised by Faelind’s perceptiveness, Lutha shook his head. “Not right now.” He wasn’t going to deny that something had happened in Harad – Faelind would know it for a lie even if he did – but it wasn’t something that he felt inclined to discuss just then.

“Very well. I will not push,” Faelind said. “But if you change your mind…”

“I know,” Lutha replied. “I can come to you.”

“Any time of the day or night,” Faelind added quietly. He stepped back then and clasped his hands behind his back as he regarded the elfling. “I have spoken to Protector Amathlogon. He was most unhappy to hear that his son has been causing more trouble for you. He certainly does not wish for it to happen again – for your sake and his son’s – but I have informed him that any such behaviour in the future will result in formal discipline for Raegalas.”

“Like the switching I got on my first day?” Lutha asked.

“Hmm. I would summon Raegalas to the palace and meet privately with him and his father or another adult. Raegalas would have the opportunity to give an account of himself,” Faelind said. “I know that you have been truthful with me, Luthavar, so there is little that Raegalas could say to avoid punishment. Still, everyone must have the chance to speak. As you know, we are not _just_ about punishment here. If Raegalas is lacking something in his life, if he would benefit from an activity to occupy his time, that could be identified and discussed. When the time came for discipline, I would take him to the birch grove where you were punished, and he would be disciplined either with a switch or a birch made of three or four twigs bound together.”

Lutha nodded slowly as he thought about that. He hadn’t considered that Raegalas might have a reason for bullying him that went beyond just being mean. “Would you punish him?”

“It would be me or whichever adult had accompanied him,” Faelind replied. “Raegalas would have the choice. If he did not choose me, I would remain to bear witness.”

“Do you think that would make him stop?” Lutha asked.

“I would be surprised if Raegalas continued after being brought before me at the palace and disciplined formally. Still, it may not come to that,” Faelind reminded the elfling. “Amathlogon has a final chance to ensure that his son toes the line. He has assured me that he will.”

“Thank you. For talking to him, I mean,” Lutha added.

A flicker of surprise passed across Faelind’s face. “No thanks are necessary. But Luthavar, there is one thing that I wish you to know. Listen carefully. Raegalas is one elfling. The things that he has said and done to you do not represent the thoughts or feelings of anyone else here. You are wanted in Greenwood, liked by many and even, I daresay, loved by some.” Faelind allowed a ghost of a smile to touch his lips. “I do not say that being taunted by Raegalas has been anything but unpleasant and upsetting. But do not let the words and deeds of one unkind boy take away from anything else. Because, it _is_ just one unkind boy. There is far more good will towards you than whatever resentment Raegalas harbours. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Thank you for saying that,” Lutha whispered. He had to look down then because he was afraid that he might cry, and he didn’t want to do that. When he had gathered himself, he took a deep breath and looked up again. “So I guess you’re not going to spank me now.”

“How fascinating. Whatever makes you think that?” Faelind asked neutrally.

“Because we just had a nice moment,” Lutha replied. “You wouldn’t want to ruin it.”

That startled a laugh from Faelind – a real laugh – and he was still laughing as he put his hand on Lutha’s shoulder and guided him towards the bed. “Have you not learned by now that I keep my word, little boy?”

“Maybe just don’t keep this one,” Lutha suggested.

“Luthavar,” Faelind said reprovingly, though he almost sounded fond. He sat on the edge of the bed and gave his ward a pointed look. “You know where you need to be.”

Lutha rolled his eyes, but he realised that he was smiling. To hear Faelind laugh had sent a frisson of joy through him. _He_ had made that happen. How long had it been since Faelind had done anything more than politely chuckle or just breathe out a little more forcefully in a way that everyone understood to be a laugh even when it was really just air? Probably as long as he had been wearing black, but even that was starting to change. Faelind still dressed in dark clothing, but over recent weeks he had worn a tunic which had appeared black until he had stepped into the sunlight and then Lutha had realised that it was just a very dark green. The new robes that he had worn that very day were a deep shade of blue-black, like the midnight sky. Even Elder Thureneth had noticed that. Lutha had seen her touching Faelind’s sleeve and smiling to herself. It was almost like a centuries-old dark cloud was slowly starting to let the sun through. Lutha wasn’t arrogant enough to believe that he was responsible for all that. But it was still nice to see.

Faelind was waiting. Lutha slipped his leggings down to his knees and lowered himself across his guardian’s lap. He felt Faelind’s arm around his waist pulling him in a little closer, and then cool air on bare skin as Faelind pushed up the back of his tunic. “Do you understand what this is for, Luthavar?” the Elder asked.

“Because I threw pinecones and they might have hurt someone or damaged something,” Lutha said dutifully. “Even though,” he added, “I have really good aim.”

“I am glad that you understand so well,” Faelind said dryly.

The sting of the first smack landing right across the centre of his bottom made Lutha catch his breath. He pressed his face into his arms as Faelind settled into a steady rhythm. Like everything that the elegant elf did, there was nothing rushed about it. The firm smacks that fell every couple of seconds were carefully measured and controlled, meant to catch and hold Lutha’s attention, even though the elfling didn’t think that this would be one of the most memorable spankings that he had ever received from Faelind. Or rather, it would be memorable, but not because of the punishment itself. Lutha could still hear Faelind’s laugh and feel the warmth of his kind words, and the physical distance that usually lay between them when Lutha was in that now familiar position had been halved when Faelind had snuggled him closer. Somehow, somewhere, another barrier between them had broken down.

Faelind spanked Lutha thoroughly for the next few minutes, and in his peripheral vision Lutha was aware of Faelind slightly turning his head every so often to look down at him and check his reactions, to make sure that the discipline was still right. Faelind had always been good about that. If he thought that something was wrong, he would stop and quietly ask why Lutha was tense, or biting his lip, or holding his breath. If Lutha ever told him to stop, he stopped. That wasn’t to say that the discipline was automatically over. Sometimes it would be, if Faelind thought that right, but other times it would continue when Lutha was ready – and only when Lutha was ready. The elfling wasn’t used to that. There was no doubt in his mind about which of them was in charge, but even so, he had an element of control over his own punishments. Over everything. That had never happened before.

When Lutha’s bottom was a rosy shade of pink from his cheeks down to the tops of his thighs, and he was sniffling miserably, Faelind stayed his hand. “Up and into bed when you are ready, little boy,” he said softly.

Brushing away a couple of stray tears, Lutha got to his feet and pulled his leggings back into place. He automatically took a step towards his bed, but Faelind caught his arm and gently said, “Boots.” Lutha gave a tearful nod and reached down to remove them. When he straightened, Faelind had stood and was waiting there. Unlike Feredir with his enthusiastic and rough hugs, Faelind rarely offered affection beyond a touch and a squeeze of Lutha’s shoulder. Lutha never minded that, because he was still figuring out where he stood on physical affection. Sometimes he wanted it and sometimes he didn’t. It all depended on his mood, the dreams he’d had the night before, the frustrations of the day, even the weather. Now, seeing Faelind standing right there, Lutha slowly leaned his shoulder against Faelind’s chest. The Elder put one arm around Lutha’s shoulders. Catching his breath, Lutha turned fully into Faelind’s embrace.

The first couple of times that Faelind had hugged Lutha, it had been an awkward experience for both of them. Lutha had been stiff and nervous, and Faelind hadn’t really known what to do with his hands other than giving the elfling an awkward pat on the back. He had got better at that, and it had become something more natural. Now there was no awkward back patting, just Faelind’s strong arms holding Lutha tight against him. “All is well, my little boy,” he murmured.

With his face pressed against Faelind’s chest, Lutha’s eyes widened slightly. _My little boy._ It had never been that before. It had only ever been _little boy,_ words that Faelind had started out speaking sharply as if to remind Lutha of his place. Over time, that had gradually become a term of endearment that Lutha didn’t think he would accept from anyone else. But now, _my little boy._ It gave Lutha butterflies inside and made him feel warm all over, although he wondered if Faelind even realised that he had made the slip.

“Time for bed,” Faelind said softly, giving nothing away.

Lutha nodded obediently and got into bed. “You really don’t mind that I want to stay with you instead of going back to Feredir?” he asked, as he settled carefully on his side.

“No. I am pleased that you wish to stay.” Faelind leaned down and tucked Lutha in a little more securely. He straightened then and his eyes went to the door as if he was considering just leaving his ward to rest, but after a moment he sat on the edge of the bed again. “Before you sleep, I wish to discuss that with you.”

“What’s wrong?” Lutha asked warily, starting to sit up even though his tender bottom throbbed in protest.

“I did not say that something was wrong,” Faelind gently admonished the elfling. “You and I have come quite a way since you first arrived in the forest. We feel differently about each other now than we did then.”

“You don’t make me want to bite you anymore,” Lutha offered.

Faelind smiled fleetingly. “Good. But I meant that we have grown…fonder, I suppose, of one another. I have given our current arrangement great thought since you expressed a wish to stay with me this morning. While I understand that Elder Nithaniel is eager for you to be adopted into a family when the time is right, how would it be in the meantime if you were to become my foster son rather than simply my ward?”

“Are you saying that because you feel bad about spanking me?” Lutha asked, buying himself some time.

“I do not feel bad about that,” Faelind replied mildly. “You earned it.”

Lutha was so deep in thought that he could barely muster a smile. He bit his lower lip and looked up at Faelind. “What does it mean? How is it different?”

“In practice, not at all. We would continue as we are but this would make it more official, more formal,” Faelind explained. “I know that it was unsettling for you when Feredir rode north and you had to leave his home. Being my foster son, knowing that this _is_ your home until you are ready to move on, would give you a degree of security that perhaps you have not felt so far.”

“Nothing would change?” Lutha asked.

“Nothing would change,” Faelind promised.

Lutha nodded slowly. “Would you smack me less?”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t smack you _more_ ,” Faelind replied dryly. “Take your time and think about if this is what you want, Luthavar.”

Lutha frowned slightly. He was allowed to make decisions in his day-to-day life, of course, and he had even been allowed to make some quite significant decisions like what his formal name would be and whether he went with Feredir or stayed with Faelind. But this seemed even bigger than both those things. Before Greenwood, he had never been allowed to make decisions. He had always been told where the Clan was travelling to next, and who he had to steal from and whose bed he would warm. It still felt odd, sometimes, to know that he had a choice.

“Is it a thing that would happen whatever I felt?” Lutha asked slowly.

Faelind’s expression didn’t change but he drew back ever so slightly. “No. This is your decision, Luthavar,” he said quietly. “If you do not wish to be my foster son, you may say so.”

“I don’t. Want to say so, I mean. That is, if you made it more official then…” Lutha huffed in frustration, annoyed with himself. “Yes. I want that. Please.”

“Then I will gladly make it so,” Faelind said with a warm smile.

Lutha lowered his eyes and slowly traced a pattern up and down the edge of his pillow. Elder Nithaniel was going to find him a home with a family where he could live forever, so he knew that this arrangement with Faelind wouldn’t last. But until then, he was going to have a sort-of-father. A sort-of-father who didn’t and wouldn’t ever hurt him in any of the ways that his other sort-of-fathers had hurt him and let him be hurt by others. A sort-of-father who cared for him and gave good hugs and listened to him. A slow smile spread across Lutha’s face, and he curled himself into a ball under the covers, barely knowing how to verbalise his thoughts because he felt like he might burst with joy.

“Luthavar,” Faelind said, laughing softly. “Are you happy?”

“Yes,” Lutha whispered, and he truly was.


	10. Winter's Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter comes to Greenwood, bringing with it snow and new lessons for Lutha.

The skies had been cloudless and blue when Lutha had first come to Greenwood, but his time there had seen the verdant greens of the forest shade into a vibrant rainbow of red, orange, gold, and bronze. The clear paths had become littered with leaves that crunched underfoot, and the long days where the sun rose in the early hours of the morning and set late at night had become short and cool. Now the trees were bare and thin. The pools and lakes were too cold for all but the bravest of souls. Woodland creatures wore thick furry coats, and in the evenings many fires crackled in many hearths.

When Lutha woke on one of those winter mornings, there was something about his room that was immediately different. It took him a moment to realise that the light coming through the curtains was somehow brighter, purer than normal. A chill in the air made him want to burrow as deeply into his blankets as he could. But, curiosity got the better of him and he ventured out of bed, wrapping his arms around his slender frame as he padded to the window.

“Snow,” he whispered, peeking through the curtains into a white world.

Lutha had seen snow before, of course. He had seen it many times. But he had only ever woken up to it in a cold prison cell, or a damp caravan, or the bed of a stranger or a not-stranger. He had never seen it from his own bedroom in a house where he felt safe and wanted. Now, looking out at it coating everything like a carpet of crushed diamonds, the elfling felt a sense of magic so unfamiliar that it took his breath away. He had to turn away and let the curtains fall shut behind him or else he might have cried.

By the time Lutha headed downstairs he was fully dressed, with his hair tied up in a half tail and a ball of snow that he had scraped off the windowsill clutched in his hand. He could hear the soft clatter of dishes and cutlery from the kitchen as the household staff worked on breakfast – toast and bacon were definitely on that day’s menu, he thought, sniffing the air in pleasure – but it was to the study that he went. If the last few mornings were anything to go by, Lutha’s foster father would be hard at work even though it was early enough that breakfast wasn’t ready. Yule was coming, after all. There was plenty of work to be finished before it was time to rest and enjoy the festivities.

Sure enough, Elder Faelind was seated behind his desk with a stack of papers in front of him and a peacock feather quill in his left hand. His fine robes were of the darkest indigo, and his long raven hair was bound out of his face with a plain silver circlet. Lutha walked straight into the study without knocking, and held out his hand. “Look at this,” he said by way of greeting, showing his foster father the snow.

Faelind looked up and arched his eyebrows. “It is snowing, yes. Did you go out in the cold dressed like that?” A note of stern disapproval had entered his voice, his sharp eyes lingering on the lack of gloves or cloak adorning Lutha’s body.

“No. I opened my window and I scraped the snow off the windowsill,” Lutha replied. “I haven't been outside yet. But I am going out today.”

“Indeed,” Faelind said neutrally.

That made Lutha sigh. “Please may I go out today?”

The smallest hint of a sardonic smile played about Faelind’s lips. “If you tell me where you are going and I approve of it, and if you wrap up warmly and agree to be home at a decent time, then yes, you may go out.”

“I want to go to town. I’ll wrap up warmly. I’ll agree now to be home at a decent time but I might forget about that later,” Lutha said.

“In which case, little boy, you will go across my knee and put yourself to bed straight after dinner,” Faelind said calmly.

Lutha thought that was fair enough. After a hearty breakfast, which Faelind stopped his work to be able to enjoy with his foster son, Lutha went back upstairs and changed the tunic that he was wearing for a dark green one with a warm inner lining of fur. He donned fur-lined gloves and a hooded cloak with an inner pocket for his velvet pouch of coins. A few of the coins had been given to him by Faelind right before leaving so that he could buy an afternoon treat of sweet rolls from the bakery. All of the other coins were ones that Lutha had very carefully saved over the last few months from the allowance given to him by Faelind, the coins-for-sweets gifted to him every week by his foster grandmother Elder Thureneth, and the coins that he had earned doing the occasional chore for other members of the Circle of Elders.

It was a twenty minute walk from Faelind’s grand house to town, but Lutha didn’t mind. He amused himself by watching his breath mist in the air when he exhaled, and by kicking up snow so that it made a funny plopping sort of noise as it fell back to the ground. Elflings both older and younger than Lutha were out having snowball fights and crafting figures of snow, and as he passed a grassy knoll he saw some sort of sledding competition going on. Lutha could have been tempted to stay and watch, but he reminded himself that he was on important business.

The town of Amon Lanc was somewhat quieter than usual, but there were still plenty of people out running errands and doing their shopping. All but one of the inside shops were open and only a handful of the outside stalls had been kept shut. The fountain in the centre of the plaza was frozen over, but braziers dotted around gave off plenty of heat. A red-haired elleth with freckled cheeks was selling honey-roasted nuts from one of the braziers. Lutha bought himself some that he could nibble on as he wandered the market. After that, the first order of business was buying sweet rolls for Faelind. The elfling wanted to get that over and done with so that he could concentrate on something even more important than sweet rolls: presents.

Lutha had never bought anyone a present before. He had stolen plenty of things and gifted them to people, but that was in the before time when such things had earned him praise and the approval of the human family who had raised him. Really, he didn’t understand the concept of handing over hard-earned coins for something only to give it to someone else. But it was a thing that the elves did – and not just for Yule, either. They did it for each other’s Begetting Days, which Lutha had discovered when his friend Alphros had turned seventy-five in the autumn, and even for other little celebrations scattered throughout the year. It was all very odd. Still, Lutha was willing to try. If he didn’t like it then he wouldn’t resume stealing. People would just have to be content in the knowledge that his continued affection towards them was a gift.

As Lutha mulled all of this over, his path led him to a small shop on the corner of the square where pretty paintings hung in the snow-flecked windows. He stepped into the warmth and looked around while the blonde elleth behind the counter spoke with a customer. Paintings were not the only things on offer. There were drawings and sketches, tapestries, lovely ornaments and wood carvings, decorative vases, woven jewellery, and even finer pieces of silver and gold with gemstones that sparkled and caught Lutha’s eye. They made him think of his foster father, for Faelind was the most elegant person that Lutha had ever known; even more so than graceful Elder Rethedir and serene Elder Aermanis. Every inch of him from his sleek black hair to the tips of his long fingers and his velvety voice just said _elegance_ to Lutha, in a way that had once been awe-inspiring and secretly even a little intimidating. Faelind wore fine clothing and jewels, yet never in a way that was boastful or ostentatious. Lutha admired that about him. Well, mostly. Now it was annoying, because Faelind had so many beautiful things that Lutha didn’t know what he could get that would possibly compare.

Vaguely aware of another person entering the shop, Lutha idly ran his fingers over a silver bracelet even though he didn’t think that he had ever seen Faelind wearing anything on his wrists. He noted idly that the newcomer was a tall ellon with pale gold hair braided off his face, and that he wore the smart green and grey uniform of the Protectors of Greenwood. He was carrying a cup of what Lutha decided from the smell was warm milk infused with nutmeg, which seemed an odd thing for a Protector to be carrying. It became clear a moment later when the ellon put the cup down on the counter for the elleth who had just finished with her customer.

Suddenly, dark blue eyes landed on Lutha. “I’m sure you have somewhere else to be if you aren’t going to buy anything.”

The elleth frowned and reached across the counter to lightly slap the Protector’s arm through his cloak. “Leave him alone, Elthoron. I don’t need you harassing my customers. Go on now, and I’ll see you at home.”

The elf called Elthoron turned on his heel and strode out of the shop but not before shooting Lutha a dark look of warning. Lutha just glared after him, feeling stung. He was half tempted to leave the shop on principle and go somewhere else, but there really were lovely things for sale. Discomfort swept over Lutha as he looked back at the silver bracelet. What if the elleth thought that he was going to steal something? Why did people assume that about him? Lutha didn’t think that he looked like a thief. He didn’t think that he had _ever_ looked like a thief. That was why he had been so good at it.

“Sorry about him,” the blonde elleth said, giving Lutha a sympathetic smile. “My protective older brother doesn’t know when to mind his own business sometimes. Have you seen anything that you like?”

“You have lots of pretty things but I’m not sure what I’m looking for,” Lutha replied. “What do you buy for someone you once hated with a passion but you now think is quite decent most of the time?”

The elleth was staring incredulously. “Who in Eru’s name are you talking about?”

“My foster father,” Lutha said readily. “And his mother.”

“Would that be Elder Faelind and Elder Thureneth?” the elleth asked perceptively. She smiled in a pleased sort of way when Lutha just nodded guardedly. “Good. Well, I know that Elder Faelind likes jewellery though nothing too showy. Elder Thureneth likes jewellery too but her tastes are a little more…hmm, foreign, than I can cater to. She travels so widely that I am sure her jewellery box has pieces from every corner of the world. She does enjoy traditional art. She was in here just the other day looking at my paintings. She seemed especially drawn to the wildflower ones. Does that help?”

“It does actually,” Lutha admitted. He let his gaze fall on a little iridescent stone of green and blue hanging from a silver chain. “I like that.”

“That is a stone of Forochel,” the elleth explained, taking the necklace out of its glass cabinet so that Lutha could see it better. “It is said that fire-foxes with whirling tails race across the skies far to the north and create banners of shining light. The sparks that their tails give off burn bits of the sky, which fall to the earth as these blue stones.”

“I don’t know what a fire-fox is and I don’t think that’s a true story because I don’t see how bits of the sky can just fall out of the…well, sky,” Lutha said. “But it’s quite a good story. And I suppose it’s no less believable than the idea that ancient gods sometimes turn the sky funny colours when the fancy takes them.”

“Yes, I agree,” the elleth laughed. “Still, whether the story is true or not, the stones are said to have great powers of protection, the ability to heal and strengthen the body and spirit, and to guide dreams along safe paths.”

Lutha thought that was a lot of work for one little stone, but the elves seemed to set great store by crystals and gems. He would think it all a load of nonsense if he hadn’t seen for himself that the ruby that Faelind wore in a ring surrounded by diamonds darkened when someone told a lie and brightened when the lie became a truth. “I’ll take the necklace,” he said out loud. Then, to clarify, he added awkwardly, “I’ll buy it. With coins. I have coins.”

“And will you be having anything else?” the elleth asked.

“That depends on the cost of the necklace,” Lutha replied.

And so negotiations began. The shopkeeper didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she almost appeared to enjoy her quick back and forth with Lutha as they fought for a figure that was fair to them both. Lutha kept the haggling to a minimum when it came to the painting that he chose for his foster grandmother. He knew when to pick his battles, and as friendly as the elleth was, he felt that he had likely pushed his luck enough. Besides, he didn’t care for the idea of her brother coming back and deciding that he was trouble. Lutha was a good if scrappy sort of fighter, but he had learned the hard way that biting was frowned upon in Greenwood.

“What’s your name?” he asked suddenly, as the golden haired elleth wrapped the items that he had bought.

“My name is Eilianthel,” she replied with a smile.

“I like you more than I like your brother,” Lutha informed her.

Eilianthel laughed at that. “You spent half a minute in his company. He’s overprotective but he is a warrior. That’s just the way he is.”

“I still like you better. You can call me Lutha, by the way.” Lutha liked and respected the formal name that he had received in Greenwood, but he didn’t want to give up his short-name. It was what he had been called for the sixty-eight years before he had found himself in the forest and it was how he thought of himself. Besides, he liked hearing _Lutha_ spoken not in rage or lust but in affection and friendship. It suddenly made that simple little name feel special.

“Lutha. You can call me Eilian, then,” the elleth offered. “And never mind Elthoron. You are welcome in my shop any time.”

Lutha was surprised by how pleased that made him feel. He accepted the packages, tucking the smaller one for Faelind into the inner pocket of his cloak and holding the wrapped painting for Thureneth against his chest with the sweet rolls. With a fleeting smile for Eilian, he left her shop and considered what to do next. He didn’t have much in the way of coins left, so he thought that he might as well head for home. There was probably time for him to stay and watch the sled races if they were still going on before Faelind expected him back. As he pondered his options, Lutha noticed a familiar ellon leaving the chandlery a few doors up from Eilian’s shop. The other ellon noticed him at the same time, and gave Lutha a friendly wave and a smile.

Nestorion was one of the few elves that Lutha had never succeeded in disliking even though he had started out doing his best to hate all the Elders and everyone associated with them. After all, they had caught him stealing and they had punished him. The Lutha of all those months ago had felt that he should hate them on principle. But while Nestorion had seen many more years than the younger Elders like Nithaniel and Feredir, he was not himself of their Circle. And he had once been an outsider like Lutha; a Nandorin elf originally from the northern reaches of the forest, he had come from nothing and been adopted long ago by Elder Nestaeth. He had known what it was like to be different. He had understood. Besides all that, his innate kindness and compassion had made it incredibly difficult for Lutha to regard Nestorion with the same contempt as he had once viewed most of the others. Lutha had tried, but Nestorion was just too _nice._ Which, he supposed, was probably a good problem to have.

“Lutha,” Nestorion greeted the elfling with a fond smile. “Shopping for Yule gifts?”

“I’ve just finished,” Lutha replied. “That shop with the paintings in the window is good for gifts.”

“Yes, I made some purchases there this morning,” Nestorion said. “Mistress Eilianthel is quite the talent. Word has it that Elder Rethedir will choose her as his successor when the time comes.”

Lutha couldn’t have been more surprised when he had discovered that ancient Rethedir, Eldest of the Elders and Chief of the Circle, was Elder for the Arts. He had expected something a little more…distinguished. It had been difficult for him to picture such a stern and noble ellon with a paintbrush in his hand. But then, Lutha had once struggled to imagine Faelind as a Protector. He had finally come to the realisation that it was just best not to assume things, especially about these elves who had lived for thousands of years (a lifespan that was still baffling to him), for how could he possibly know all that there was to know about them when they had been around for such an impossible length of time?

As it happened, _arts_ in this context did not just mean _art_ although it did include that. It also extended to literature, theatre, music, architecture, and philosophy to name but a few things, and so Rethedir often worked closely with other Elders where their work overlapped; Angoliel the scholar, Thavron the carpenter, Serellon the stonemason and his cousin Turcared the smith. Rethedir was the patron of many craftspeople like Mistress Eilianthel, having helped them all to hone their crafts and establish their businesses, and with Angoliel he had founded both a library and a school. That sort of thing was much easier for Lutha to imagine – even though he had it on good authority that Rethedir was a master musician and painter too.

“But as Chief of the Circle isn’t Rethedir in charge of everyone else?” Lutha asked aloud. “So whoever succeeded him would become Chief too?”

“His two roles don’t go hand in hand with one another. Chief of the Circle is always the eldest regardless of their profession. So whenever Rethedir decides to step down, someone – let’s say Mistress Eilianthel – will become Elder for the Arts but the duty of Chief will fall to Thureneth as next eldest – assuming she hasn’t also stepped down by then,” Nestorion clarified. He paused then, and made a thoughtful _hmm_ sort of sound. “After Thureneth it would either be Aermanis or Faelind, but they were born on the same day so they might have to fight it out.”

Lutha laughed at the image that popped into his head, but he hesitated as he noticed that Nestorion was carrying quite a few more packages than he himself was. “You don’t have anything else to buy, do you?”

“I fear that I have been rather disorganised this Yule compared to years past,” Nestorion said ruefully. “So yes, I do. Just for a few friends and three…hmm, no, four of the Elders.”

“You’re not buying gifts for all _fourteen_ of the Elders.” Lutha cast the older ellon a doubtful look. “That’s a lot.”

“It is at that but they are family,” Nestorion replied with a shrug. He laughed, a merry sparkle in his leaf green eyes. “I bought Feredir a stuffed toy deer. I am certain he will threaten to use it for target practice but I couldn’t resist.”

“I’m sure he’ll like it,” Lutha replied, though he knew that he sounded distracted. “Did you get me a gift?”

“Of course. You’re one of us now whether you like it or not,” Nestorion said fondly. “But don’t you try and find out what it is. You mustn’t spoil the surprise.”

Lutha summoned a smile from deep inside. “I guess not. Anyway, I should be getting home. Elder Faelind will be watching the clock to make sure that I’m not a second late.”

“Tell him you were delayed by me if you need to,” Nestorion offered. “Be well, Lutha.”

The walk back to Elder Faelind’s house took much less time than the walk to the marketplace had, but that was only because Lutha didn’t stop to enjoy the wintery world that he was passing through. He stalked along the path, brooding darkly. Nobody had told him that he had to buy gifts for _everyone._ Nobody had thought to warn him that his coins would have to stretch to fourteen gifts – or sixteen gifts if he included Nestorion and also Elder Turcared’s adopted daughter Bareithel; no, eighteen, because he had forgotten Alphros and Galad – instead of just two. Faelind should have told him, the elfling thought, with a rush of anger. How could his foster father have been so _thoughtless_?

By the time Lutha got home, he was raging so much that he didn’t even tell Faelind that he was back. He flung the bag of sweet rolls onto the kitchen table before storming straight up to his bedroom, where he slammed the door shut with a satisfying crash and dropped the wrapped necklace and painting onto his dressing table. His cloak ended up on the floor along with his gloves, and his snowy boots found themselves being tossed into opposite corners of the room. Finally, Lutha threw himself down onto his bed with a frustrated growl. “It’s not fair,” he whispered to the empty room. He didn’t know what to do and it _just_ wasn’t fair.

Soon enough, Lutha heard a brisk knock on the door. He considered ignoring it, but after a moment he got up and opened the door marginally to see his foster father standing on the other side. “I’m home.”

“I see that you are home,” Faelind replied. “How was your trip into town?”

“Fine,” Lutha said briefly. “Cold. Nestorion was there.”

“I am sorry that you were cold. Come with me to the kitchen and we will get something to warm you up,” Faelind offered.

Lutha knew his guardian well enough by now to know that a suggestion from Faelind was never really a suggestion even if it sounded like one. He was feeling upset enough to refuse, but too tired that he didn’t want the quarrel that would follow if he did. Well, maybe that was unfair. Faelind wasn’t cruel or unreasonable. He certainly wouldn’t _make_ Lutha go downstairs with him, but he would at least want to know why the elfling had declined in the first place. So, Lutha finally sighed and nodded, opening the door all the way and following Faelind down to the pleasantly warm kitchen.

One of the things that Lutha had learned was that it was not considered good manners to put one’s elbows on the table, but as he sat in his usual chair at the kitchen table, he did just that and propped his chin in his hands. He was too deep in thought to care much about it. Faelind didn’t seem inclined to comment on it either. He just quietly prepared drinks, and when he came to join Lutha it was with a tray bearing sweet honey biscuits and two mugs of hot peppermint cocoa topped with whipped cream.

“Do you want to talk about whatever is bothering you, Luthavar?”

“Nothing’s bothering me,” Lutha mumbled. “Is anything bothering you? Let’s talk about that.”

Faelind lifted his hand to reveal the glittering ring that he wore. The ruby had darkened from the shade of poppy petals to a red so dark it was almost black. “I do not like being lied to, little boy,” Faelind said coolly. “Tell me what troubles you. I cannot help if I do not know.”

Lutha stared at the ring before lifting his grey eyes to meet Faelind’s green. “I’m not going to the Yule celebrations.”

“And why is that?” Faelind asked, steadily holding his foster son’s gaze.

“Because I’m just not,” Lutha retorted. “Find some other elfling to take my place.”

“Unacceptable,” Faelind said flatly. “That is not a proper answer. Try again. ‘Because’ is not good enough.”

“ _Because_ ,” Lutha repeated deliberately, “I don’t want to. Is that not a reason?”

Faelind dropped his hand down onto the table. The ruby had lightened a little to the shade of freshly spilled blood. “It is half of one. You were excited about the Yule celebrations and now you are not, so clearly something has happened. If you are unwilling to talk about it I shall have to guess in order to help you. So, are you ill? Did you catch a chill while you were out?” Faelind asked, ticking each thing off on his fingers. “You said that you saw Nestorion. Did you speak with him? Have an argument perhaps? Or are you having problems with Raegalas again?”

“I spoke with Nestorion,” Lutha said briefly.

“About?”

“About Yule.”

“Was Nestorion buying gifts?” Faelind asked.

“Yes. For _everyone_ ,” Lutha whispered, burying his face in his arms.

“Ah.” Faelind’s expression became clearer as the situation did too. “And you felt badly because you did not have enough coins for that many gifts. Is that it, my little boy?”

“I can’t go to the stupid Yule celebrations when I don’t have presents for everyone,” Lutha snapped, lifting his head. “And I don’t have any coins left after getting gifts for you and Elder Thureneth, because I didn’t know that I had to worry about that. Now the only way that I can get gifts for all the other Elders, _and_ Nestorion, _and_ Bareithel, _and_ my friends, _and_ anyone else who I’ve forgotten, is by stealing, which I’m not even allowed to do anymore. So I’m just not going to the celebrations. I’ll stay here, you go, and you can bring me back some cake.”

Faelind sat quietly and allowed Lutha to let out his frustrations until the elfling had vented himself into silence. “Nestorion is nearly two thousand years old, Luthavar,” Faelind said finally. “He is a master in his chosen profession, and he earns a wage that allows him to live comfortably. Purchasing gifts is not a difficulty for him. When he was a boy, and his circumstances were not what they are now, he was not responsible for such things. He helped Elder Nestaeth to make or buy gifts, which she paid for, and they were given from the both of them. I had intended – and I still intend – for it to be no different here. You are my foster-son and an elfling. You are not expected to buy presents for everyone.”

“Is that true?” Lutha asked suspiciously.

“Yes. I promise that all is well and that we shall do this together,” Faelind said. “Please do reconsider and come to the Yule celebrations. Everyone would miss you if you did not.”

A quiet sigh left Lutha’s lips even as he felt a little rush of hope. “Is that also true?”

The ruby atop Faelind’s truth ring had gone back to its natural poppy-red hue. “I would not lie to you.”

It took a while for Lutha to silently talk himself back into it even with such reassurance, but it was that promise from Faelind that made him finally nod his head. “I’ll come.”

Faelind smiled. “Good.”


	11. A Woodland Yule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lutha experiences a Yule like never before and comes to a realisation along the way. Meanwhile, for the first time in centuries, Faelind learns to take joy in the festivities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story told in this chapter was inspired by ‘Little Daughter of the Snow’ from Old Peter’s Russian Tales by Arthur Ransome.

True to his word, Elder Faelind saw to the purchase of gifts for friends and colleagues. He was assisted every step of the way by Lutha, who felt much better now about the practice of giving gifts. Together, the two of them also decorated the house with help from Elder Thureneth; they lay evergreen garlands across mantelpieces and around the bannister, and hung a wreath of holly and berries on the front door. They even decorated a tree with strings of seed pearls and crystal ornaments that shone when winter sunlight gleamed through the window and glittered when flames danced in the fireplace at night.

Every couple of days, a new gift appeared under the tree. Lutha spent many an hour just sitting in front of the tree with his legs folded and his chin propped in his hands as he looked at the wrapped gifts of so many shapes and sizes. Some were for Faelind, and some were for Thureneth who did not live with Faelind and Lutha though she would spend Yule with them, but most of the gifts were for Lutha himself. He couldn’t believe that there were so many people who cared about him enough that they wanted to give him presents. It was overwhelming if he thought too much about it.

The afternoon before Yule, Lutha got up from his now customary place in front of the tree and went looking for Faelind. His foster father had finished working two days ago to enjoy the celebrations, and Lutha found him sitting at the kitchen table. Faelind was busy wrapping a gift in luxurious velvet, with ribbon close at hand for tying it. “I had an idea,” Lutha said abruptly. “If you think it’s a stupid idea just say so. It probably is a stupid idea but I’m going to tell you anyway and you can think what you like.”

Faelind put his hand flat on the half-wrapped gift to keep the velvet in place as he looked up. “I am listening.”

“We should build a snow elf. That’s what people do when it snows. I’ve seen it,” Lutha added, somewhat defensively. “But we haven't done that yet.”

The silence that greeted his words stretched until Lutha felt sure that his foster father must think him foolish for suggesting such a thing. Then, defying expectations, Faelind nodded even though his expression was as unreadable as ever. “I believe that you are right, Luthavar,” he conceded. “We have not done that. So, we shall.”

“You really want to?” Lutha asked suspiciously.

“I will finish wrapping this gift while you wrap up well against the chill,” Faelind replied. “Then yes, we will go outside and build a snow elf.”

Lutha went upstairs to put on his winter clothing and consider the situation that he now found himself in. He had been quite prepared for Faelind to turn down the chance to make a snow elf, in no small part because the Elder of Law and Justice was so refined and elegant that Lutha couldn’t imagine him playing in the snow. But it wasn’t just that. When Lutha had come home one day from helping to decorate Feredir’s house, and he had asked Faelind how they would decorate, Faelind had been silent for so long that Lutha had thought that he might not say anything at all. Then, finally, Faelind had admitted that he hadn’t even thought about it.

Later, Lutha had discovered the truth. Faelind had not properly celebrated Yule since the death of his wife, for it had hurt too much to rejoice at what had been her favourite time of the year. Oh, he had hung a wreath on his door in recognition of the season, and he had always put in a brief appearance at the Yule celebrations that the Elders held every winter, but that was it. A suspiciously misty-eyed Thureneth had let slip to Lutha that this was the first year in centuries that her son’s house had been decorated. Elder Serellon, the hulking blond stonemason, had gruffly said to Lutha, “I suppose we have you to thank for Faelind putting his work down this Yule.” Lutha didn’t know why he had made a difference to the way that Faelind viewed Yule, but he was glad of it all the same.

Lutha had pulled on his fur-lined boots and swung his hooded cloak around his shoulders, fastening it with a clasp of knotted silver. He finished with his gloves, and returned downstairs to find his foster father waiting for him. Faelind had removed his more formal robes and replaced them with a midnight coloured cloak above his dark blue and black tunic laced over a fine cream shirt, with soft doeskin leggings of dark grey and supple leather boots. “Good, Luthavar,” he commented, noting the elfling’s warm clothing as he pulled on his own gloves. “Let us go outside, then.”

“I’ve never built a snow elf before,” Lutha admitted as they stepped out into the cold.

“And it has been a long time since I did such a thing.” Sweeping his cloak out of the way, Faelind knelt in the snow. “It will be a new experience for us both.”

The sight of his stately foster father kneeling in the snow was so startling that Lutha just stared before remembering what they were there to do. He knelt as well, and copied Faelind in gathering snow to make a large ball for the body. They worked in silence for a little while until Lutha broke it. “When I was little, I thought that it was fun to lie in the snow. I liked to create me-shaped imprints.”

“I too did that as an elfling,” Faelind said briefly.

“Three and a half thousand years ago,” Lutha mused. “Forever ago. Did you like Yule when you were little?”

“Yule then was much the same as Yule now though some of the traditions have changed over the years,” Faelind replied. “My mother was not an Elder when I was small, but my father was and so even then I attended the Yule gatherings that we still hold today. Some of the Elders at the time had sons and daughters my age or somewhat older, so there were other children for me to spend time with. It was better for me to be with them when I could.”

“Because your father didn’t like Yule?” Lutha guessed.

Faelind gestured dismissively. “He was a distant and severe ellon. I was never sure what he liked.”

“Oh. Fathers are horrible.” Lutha sat back on his heels and eyed his foster father over the top of the ball that they were building. “Well. Not you. You’re all right.”

“Thank you, my little boy,” Faelind said with a faint smile. “You are all right too.”

“Yes, I am,” Lutha agreed.

They finished shaping the first large ball of snow and then they started on a second one that would go atop it. Talk turned to how they would make their creation look like an elf, and they settled on using branches for its arms and smooth stones to create a face. “Imagine if people actually looked like that,” Lutha reflected out loud. “With twig-arms and stones for eyes.”

That drew a soft chuckle from Faelind. “It is not quite the same, but there is a story about a snow elf that turned into a little girl. My mother used to tell it to me.”

“So it was a snow elfling?” Lutha asked.

“Just so. You see, once upon a time there lived a forester and his wife. They often heard elflings at play. The laughter was sweet to hear, but it saddened their hearts for they were childless and would like nothing more than to have an elfling of their own to love. One day,” Faelind recited, “they saw the children building snow elflings, and the forester said, ‘what would you think, my love, if one of these snow elflings came to life to be our own elfling?’ The wife laughed. ‘A pretty fancy,’ she said. Still, they got to work, and before long they had a snow elfling that looked much like a little girl. The wife even brought out clothes to dress her in. They could not stop thinking about how real she seemed, and that night when they went to bed, the forester’s wife whispered, ‘Please, let our little snow daughter come to life.’ Then as they lay abed, they were woken by laughter. Leaving the bedroom to investigate, they found a little girl, white as snow with pale silver hair, dancing in their living room. ‘Hello Nana, Ada,’ she greeted them with a sweet smile.”

“Oh no, that’s very creepy,” Lutha said, shivering. “Is she going to kill them in their sleep one night?”

“You’ll have to wait and see, won’t you,” Faelind replied pointedly.

“I’ll wait and see,” Lutha conceded.

“Very good. Now, the forester and his wife were startled,” Faelind continued. “But their snow daughter threw off her ill-fitting dress and ran out into the cold, singing as she went:

_‘No warm blood in me doth glow,_

_Water in my veins doth flow;_

_Yet I'll laugh and sing and play_

_By frosty night and frosty day,_

_Little Daughter of the Snow._

_But whenever I do know_

_That you love me little, then_

_I shall melt away again._

_Back into the sky I'll go,_

_Little Daughter of the Snow.’_

‘Eru has blessed us, wife,’ the forester said. ‘Go, fetch a blanket for her. She must not catch cold while you make better clothes for her. I will see that she does not run away. Come here, Lossiel,’ he called, and the Daughter of the Snow obeyed her elven father’s call, laughing with joy as he lifted her up. She wrapped her pale arms about his neck, making him shiver, and when her new mother brought the blanket, Lossiel dutifully accepted it. ‘But you must not keep me too warm, Nana,’ she added.”

“Because she would melt?” Lutha asked curiously.

“Indeed,” Faelind nodded, pausing in shaping the second ball of snow to brush his hair over his shoulder and out of the way. “So they carried her back into their home, and Lossiel lay on a bench in the corner furthest from the fire while her mother began making her a warm tunic and cloak. Fur-lined boots and gloves came next, but Lossiel squirmed and wriggled as she was dressed in the new clothes. ‘These are too hot for me,’ she said. ‘I must go outside where it is cold.’ The forester replied, ‘But you must sleep soon.’ Lossiel just shook her head. ‘By frosty night and frosty day,’ she sang, skipping out the door again.”

Lutha looked thoughtfully at his foster father. “What does that mean?”

“Well, the forester and his wife watched Lossiel as she danced and twirled in the garden. ‘I will play by myself in the garden all night,’ Lossiel called to them. ‘And by day I will play in the forest with the other elflings. Do not worry for me.’ Her parents were dismayed by this,” Faelind said. “But nothing they could say or do would change Lossiel’s mind. And so it continued all winter. Lossiel never slept, spending nearly all her time out in the snow except when she came inside, morning and night, to eat her porridge of crushed ice.”

“Ice porridge, yum,” Lutha said under his breath.

“She is made of snow, little boy,” Faelind reminded the elfling. “Anyway, the children of the settlement adored Lossiel and they never knew how they had played without her. But the time came when the snow began to thaw. The elflings ventured further into the forest and Lossiel went with them for it would be no fun without her. Then when it began to get dark, the elflings all knew that their parents would worry and so they ran home. Lossiel ran too, but she got lost in her wanderings and climbed a tree to see what she could. The sounds of the forest at night frightened her, and she called out, ‘Friends, have pity on me, the little Daughter of the Snow.’ An old brown bear padded up on heavy paws, blinking sleep from his eyes. ‘What are you crying about, Daughter of the Snow?’ he asked. ‘O Bear,’ she replied, ‘why should I not cry? Dark has come and my friends are gone, and I am lost.’ The bear offered to take Lossiel home, but she shook her head. ‘I do not want to go with you to your cave, for you would surely eat me.’ The bear left her alone. Next came a grey wolf, and he said that he would take her home. Again Lossiel refused, afraid of being eaten. But then a red fox came, and he said that he knew Lossiel’s house well. ‘O Fox,’ she said. ‘I do not think _you_ will eat me. You can take me home.’”

Lutha wrinkled his nose in contempt at Lossiel’s choice. “I would have trusted the bear most out of those three. What happened next?” Belatedly, he hoped that he hadn’t sounded too enthusiastic.

“Lossiel came down from the tree and held fast to the fox’s fur as he carried her home. The forester and his wife were outside, weeping, for they did not know what had become of their snow daughter,” Faelind replied. “They were overjoyed to see her and asked the fox how they might repay the debt. ‘I am very hungry,’ said the fox. The forester offered him a crust of bread, for though they had little to share he would be pleased to give that. ‘What I would really like is a nice plump hen,’ said the fox. ‘Surely your little snow girl is worth that.’ The forester grew worried, for while they did indeed have a hen, his wife sold the eggs at market to earn coin. He wondered if there might be some way to have Lossiel back without having to give up their hen.”

“See? You should never trust a fox,” Lutha said sagely.

Faelind chuckled softly as they started shaping the third and final ball for their snow elf’s head. “The forester’s wife certainly did not. ‘Wait here,’ she told the fox, and then she fetched two sacks. Into one she put the hen, and into the other went their fiercest dog. When the wife returned with the sacks, the forester opened the garden gate. The fox eagerly came inside, and Lossiel jumped off his back. The forester’s wife opened the first sack and out flapped the hen. The fox leaped at the hen, but then the fierce dog jumped out of the second sack and frightened him away. Lossiel ran into the house with a cry. ‘Well, wife, we have our Lossiel again,’ said the forester, pleased, and his wife caught the hen and followed him back inside. They were surprised to see Lossiel drawing near the fire. ‘Lossiel, what are you doing?’ they cried in alarm. Lossiel turned to face them, and sang sadly:

_‘Ada, Nana, now I know_

_Less you love me than a hen._

_I must go away again,_

_To Father Frost and Mother Snow,_

_Back to the sky I go,_

_The little Daughter of the Snow.’_

The forester and his wife cried and pleaded with Lossiel, but it was too late,” Faelind added. “She stepped near the blazing fire and melted away, leaving her clothes behind. The pool of water evaporated and the mist blew back out through the door.

_‘Ada, Nana, now I know_

_Far less you love me than a hen,_

_I have gone away again,_

_To Mother Snow and Father Frost,_

_Think upon the joy you lost,_

_As I rejoin my motherkin;_

_Little Daughter of the Snow.’_

Her voice lingered in the wind, and the forester and his wife were left alone to bemoan their loss,” Faelind said softly.

“ _How_ old were you when Elder Thureneth told you that story?” Lutha asked.

“Wait, Luthavar. It is not yet done,” Faelind replied. “The year passed and the forester and his wife strove to improve themselves, to be kind, caring, and good to all their neighbours, playing with the elflings and welcoming them into their home instead of shutting themselves away. When the first snow came the next winter, they built a snow child, hoping but not truly believing. When they turned back, there was Lossiel, happy to embrace them once more. ‘You have learned your lesson,’ she said. ‘If you do not forget it, I will stay with you every winter. I cannot bear the spring sunshine nor the summer heat, but I will return with the first snow of the year.’ So, Lossiel and her elven mother and father lived happily all through that winter, and she never again stopped to listen to a fox or allowed herself to become lost after dark. And though she melted away again the following spring, the forester and his wife comforted themselves with the thought that their Lossiel would return to them again in the winter. They say she still does. And perhaps one day, she might come looking for new elflings to play with.” Faelind’s green eyes lingered on his foster son as Lutha finished patting the third and final ball into shape. “Perhaps even you, my little boy.”

“Oh, you made it creepy again,” Lutha complained. He frowned at Faelind across their snow elf, and he was surprised but gratified to see that the Elder was laughing silently as if Lutha had reacted in just the way he had wanted. Lutha rolled his eyes. “I liked the story even though Lossiel was creepy. I’m glad that you told me it. And…well, thank you.”

“You are welcome,” Faelind replied, soft and thoughtful.

Lutha hastily moved on from any possible show of emotion by getting up to collect stones so that they could give their snow elf a face. By the time they were finished it had started to snow again. The fresh chill in the air didn’t affect Faelind, but Lutha was starting to shiver and so they left their snowy creation behind in favour of going inside. While Faelind set about making hot cocoa, Lutha took the biscuit jar to the living room where the fire was blazing in the hearth. He curled up in his favourite chair with his arm curled around the jar, thinking deeply as he waited for Faelind to join him.

“Biscuit?” he offered, when his foster father came in and set down two cups of cocoa.

Faelind nodded in thanks and took a biscuit, letting Lutha keep the jar as he took his usual chair opposite the elfling. “You seem to be thinking very hard about something, Luthavar.”

“I was thinking about our snow elf,” Lutha said. “About us building it.”

“Ah. I enjoyed that,” Faelind replied briefly.

“That’s what I thought about.” Lutha set the biscuit jar aside and picked up his cocoa instead, wrapping his hands around the cup. The warmth that flooded into his fingers all the way up into his wrists and arms made him squirm in pleasure. “I didn’t know if you would say yes when I asked about making a snow elf,” Lutha added, glancing up at Faelind. “But you did even though I don’t think it’s the sort of thing you would normally do. I suppose I just wanted you to know that I’m grateful. And the story that you told me…”

“The creepy story,” Faelind interjected dryly.

“Yes, that. Nobody ever told me a story before,” Lutha said.

In the light from the fire, Faelind’s piercing green eyes softened as he regarded his foster son. “Nobody, little boy?”

“Well…” Lutha caught his breath and stared at his hands curled around the cup. “My human mother sang to me when I was little. Mostly she sang to me when I was sad and hurt. She wasn’t allowed to heal me, you see – at least not with anything more than a cloth and some water. She could if my wounds had been given to me by anyone not of the Clan. But if they had come from the Clan Father or one of the other men, it meant that they were deserved and that healing supplies weren’t to be wasted on me. So Mama Bera would sing to me as if that would make it better. I don’t think she knew what else to do.”

“No doubt she did what she felt able to,” Faelind said neutrally.

“It’s nice of you to say that but it’s not what you’re really thinking,” Lutha replied. “What you’re really thinking is that Mama Bera was at least half as bad as everyone else in the Clan, because even though she didn’t hurt me she still played a part by not helping me to escape or standing up for me. I don’t mind if you think that. I think it too. Sometimes, anyway.”

“I was not there, Luthavar. It is not for me to pass judgement on a woman who is not here to defend herself.” Faelind met his foster son’s eyes and gave the elfling a measured look as if deciding whether he was ready to hear the words that would follow. “That said,” Faelind continued after a moment, “the Clan obtained you one way or another when you were days old and they gave you to one of their senior women who was clever enough to have survived for forty years. Do I believe that there were no opportunities for her when she went thieving to slip you to a healer or a guard, or leave you at an orphanage? No, I do not. She knew the life that awaited you and she kept you in it. Still, she was a bright spot for you and a source of kindness until she died. For that, I am grateful to her.”

Half a year ago, Lutha would have flown at Faelind in a rage if he had spoken like that. Now Lutha just nodded in quiet agreement, grateful for Faelind’s forthright way of speaking and, more importantly, his honesty. “Me too,” Lutha said softly. He drank some of his cocoa, enjoying the freshness of peppermint against the velvet taste of chocolate. “I want to show our snow elf to Elder Serellon, Elder Turcared, and Elder Thavron,” he decided then, changing the subject. “They like making things so they’ll like our snow elf. Send them a bird telling them to come.”

Faelind lifted his eyebrows. “Send them a bird…”

“Please,” Lutha added.

“I will send them a bird _inviting_ them to come,” Faelind replied.

Lutha was pleased that afternoon when all three of the Elders came to look at their snow elf. Thavron, a mild-mannered carpenter who was the head of the Woodworking Guild and concerned with providing safe and sturdy homes for the people of Greenwood, had nothing but praise for the snowy statue. Turcared, the sandy haired smith, gave it quiet approval. As for Serellon, he just grunted at the snow elf before turning to Lutha and saying, “I suppose this is why you’ve not been by to annoy me today,” which prompted a sweet smile from Lutha. He hadn’t always been sure what to make of Serellon. Lutha tended to be wary of people who were bigger than him. That was most people, to be fair, for Lutha was small and slender, but Serellon was a different type of bigger. An intimidating type of bigger, with great hands, and muscles made strong from centuries of working with stone. But Lutha had come to like him. He liked how Serellon gently bullied him in a way that was nothing like the real bullying that Lutha had grown up with. It was almost like it was Serellon’s way of showing that he cared, which Lutha could appreciate.

Serellon and Thavron ended up staying for evening meal, but Turcared returned home to dine with his daughter Bareithel. When ten o’clock came, not long after the dinner guests had left, it was time for Lutha to go to bed. Worn out from his earlier exertions in the snow and all the excitement of Yule, it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep. It also didn’t take long for him to wake again. He lay in bed staring at the dark ceiling, a hint of moonlight bouncing off the snow and shining straight through a gap in his curtains. Eventually Lutha got up and crept downstairs to the living room, where he sat in front of the Yule tree with his arms around his knees.

“You could not sleep, Luthavar?”

Lutha jumped, only to relax a moment later as Faelind stepped into the living room. He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there, nor how long his foster father had watched him from the doorway. “No. Well, yes. I slept. Then I woke up.”

“Did you have a nightmare?” Faelind asked, concern lacing his voice.

“No. I promise,” Lutha added.

Faelind nodded in acceptance of the promise and followed the elfling’s gaze to the tree. “Excited for Yule, then?”

“Yes. Look at all these gifts. Can you believe that so many of them are for me? They’re from you and Elder Thureneth. Look, this one is from Feredir,” Lutha said softly. “There’s one from Nithaniel, and _two_ from Nestorion. Even Elder Rethedir and Serellon got gifts for me because…because they care,” Lutha finished in a whisper, hugging his knees tighter to his chest.

“They most certainly care. We all care,” Faelind replied.

Lutha nodded, quiet as he gazed at the gifts. “Are you upset that I got out of bed?”

“No. I expect it is perfectly natural for elflings to be restless on the eve of Yule,” Faelind said.

“Can I stay and look for five more minutes?” Lutha asked.

“Five more,” Faelind allowed. “No more than that.”

Lutha rested his head on his arms and slowly ran his gaze over all the beautifully wrapped gifts. He didn’t try and touch them or figure out what was inside. He didn’t need to do any of that. He just wanted to look. He stirred when Faelind lightly touched his shoulder, a wordless indication that time was up and he had to make his way back to bed. “Just five more minutes,” Lutha pleaded.

“Bedtime,” Faelind replied firmly.

“Three more minutes,” Lutha suggested, willing to negotiate.

“Little boy.”

“One minute.” That was the lowest that Lutha was prepared to offer. “Please.”

“ _Luthavar._ Stand up at once,” Faelind commanded the elfling.

Sighing, Lutha got to his feet. His foster father looked sternly at him. One strong hand came to rest on Lutha’s shoulder. The other reached around and landed one solid smack to the seat of his leggings. “You smacked me at Yule,” Lutha complained, rubbing his bottom.

“If you are naughty at Yule, you will be smacked at Yule,” Faelind replied calmly. “Now, would you rather go to bed or across my knee?”

“Um…bed,” Lutha decided finally.

“An excellent notion. Go on, then,” Faelind prompted him.

“When are you going to bed?” Lutha asked.

“Luthavar,” Faelind said in exasperation.

“Going,” the elfling promised, and he hastened from the room.

Squirming excitedly in bed at the thought of all the gifts that would be waiting for him in the morning was the last thing that Lutha remembered before waking up. He lay there for a moment and stared into the dim morning light filtering into his bedroom, and then his eyes widened and he slowly breathed in as it all came back to him. “It’s Yule,” he whispered. He scrambled out of bed, pausing only long enough to grab his dressing gown and fling it around his shoulders, and then he ran all the way downstairs even though running in the house wasn’t strictly permitted.

The household staff had been given a week off, but even so breakfast was well on its way to being ready thanks to Faelind and Thureneth. “It’s Yule!” Lutha repeated.

“So it is,” Faelind agreed. “Did you sleep well, Luthavar?”

Lutha nodded distractedly. “What happens now? When do we open gifts? Is breakfast now or later?”

“Breakfast first and then gifts,” Thureneth said calmly, though she was smiling at the elfling’s excitement. “Sit down, little one.”

The cloth-covered table had already been set with three places, and at the centre stood a glass vase holding red winter roses and a spray of snowdrops. Lutha couldn’t help wriggling restlessly as he took his usual place and waited. Then, the food started to be set out. Faelind had made thick pancakes in the shape of snow elves in honour of the snow elf that he and Lutha had built together, with winterberries for faces. There was whipped cream and fruit syrup to drizzle over the pancakes, followed by breakfast meats, a selection of hard and soft cheeses, and balls of dough which had been wrapped around chocolate pieces then baked together in a round pan. “Look at all the food,” Lutha whispered in awe.

“You may have as much as you like,” Thureneth gently prompted him.

Breakfast was so sumptuously delicious that Lutha almost didn’t want it to be over. Besides, the closer it got to being over, the more he felt his excitement start to be edged with nerves. He didn’t quite understand why it felt like butterflies were tumbling about in his stomach because what was there to be frightened of? He bought himself some time by going back upstairs after breakfast to wash, dress, brush his hair, scrub his teeth, and even make his bed. Finally, he took a deep breath and made himself venture downstairs where Faelind and Thureneth were waiting patiently for him. Neither of them seemed displeased by the time that Lutha had taken, which made him relax a little. He stepped uncertainly into the living room, and guided by Faelind, he sat on the floor next to the tree.

“The first gift is yours, Luthavar,” Faelind said softly. “Choose one with your name and open it when you are ready.”

Lutha wasn’t ready. He reached out slowly for a present that he knew was for him, but his fingers barely grazed the sky blue silk wrapping before he pulled his hand back and shook his head slightly. His foster father and grandmother remained patient, waiting as long as it took and gently encouraging Lutha. Finally, he breathed in slowly and picked up the present that he had first reached for. Setting it in his lap, he slowly pulled open the silver ribbon tied around it and the wrapping fell away from a wooden box of oak polished so that it shone. The name _Luthavar_ was carved into the lid, and an intricate pattern of leaves and vines marched all around the edge of the box. Inside was a velvet bag containing an array of beads for Lutha to braid into his hair.

“Who gave you that, little one?” Thureneth asked.

“Elder Thavron,” Lutha whispered almost shyly.

They took it in turns to select something from under the tree, with Faelind going next and opening a set of fine peacock feather quills and bottles of ink in various colours from Elder Angoliel. Next was Thureneth; her first gift was a fruit bowl from Elder Rethedir, glazed in blue and patterned with a pretty winter scene. Then it was back to Lutha again. He was a little less hesitant as he selected his second present, which turned out to be a stuffed bear from Feredir. Lutha laughed as he thought back to his first ever meeting with Feredir, when he had wished for the hunter to be eaten by a bear. Clearly Feredir hadn’t forgotten that either.

The opening of the gifts was a slow but pleasant process. Finally, Faelind reached for a small package that Lutha recognised. He shifted anxiously, moving Feredir’s bear into his lap and hugging it close as he watched Faelind place the cloth wrapping aside and undo the clasps on the small wooden box within. Faelind lifted the lid and drew out the pendant that Lutha had chosen for him. “Labradorite,” he murmured, smiling as he ran his finger over the stone.

“Do you really like it?” Lutha asked softly before he could stop himself. He understood now that stealing gifts for people wasn’t the same as this. It wasn’t the same at all.

“I really do. Thank you, my little boy,” Faelind replied with a smile for his foster son. “I will treasure it.”

Lutha wasn’t sure why but that made him feel warm inside, a feeling that only grew when Faelind actually removed the necklace that he was already wearing in favour of the pendant from Lutha. The elfling bit his lip happily. More presents came then, and Lutha was so astounded by all the gifts for him that he couldn’t possibly recall everything that the older elves received. For him there were a set of oils from Galad each with a little handwritten note detailing what was in them and what they did, a carved wooden figurine of himself and his two best friends from Alphros, a silver bracelet set with an aquamarine from Elder Aermanis, and from Elder Turcared a fine cloak clasp in the shape of a bird in flight. They were still only halfway through the pile of presents when Thureneth found Lutha’s gift for her.

The sight of Thureneth reaching for the gift made Lutha’s stomach drop. He had been fairly confident of the necklace that he had chosen for Faelind, but he was less sure about the floral painting for his foster grandmother. Fanuilos the cat was sitting at his side playing with a scrap of wrapping silk, and she purred as Lutha hugged her against his side. He hoped that Thureneth liked her gift as much as Faelind had liked his. But why did he even care so much, Lutha thought then, catching himself. He tried to tell himself that he just wouldn’t care at all if Thureneth didn’t like it, but he knew that to be a lie.

When Thureneth looked up from the floral painting it was with unshed tears in her laurel green eyes. “This is stunning, Luthavar, thank you,” she said. “I love it.”

“I’m glad,” Lutha replied awkwardly, unable to help a quiet breath of relief. “But you don’t have to cry.”

“I am remembering something. Good memories, I promise,” Thureneth said softly. “My grandmother used to have flowers like these. It was a long time ago in another place, but I loved looking at those flowers.”

Lutha smiled. “I could help you find somewhere to hang the picture after Yule. If you like.”

“I would like that very much,” Thureneth replied, with a warm smile in return.

When the last of the gifts had been opened and all the wrappings cleared away, they spent the rest of the morning playing a game of strategy that Lutha had been given by Elder Dirnaith, the warrior in charge of the Protectors of Greenwood. Lutha surprised himself by winning, but better even than that was the look of pride on Faelind’s face as he praised his foster son. Lunch soon followed; roasted duck served with apricot and cheese stuffing and a dazzling array of vegetables from caramelised parsnips to golden-brown roast potatoes and everything in between, and when it was done Lutha went for a walk in the snow with Faelind and Thureneth. As soon as they got back, the elfling lay on the sofa with Fanuilos. Worn out by the excitement of the day, he fell asleep with the fluffy white cat purring in his arms.

That evening saw Lutha and his foster family making ready to attend the Yule Ball. It was to be Lutha’s first time at such an event. There had been something similar in the autumn to celebrate the harvest, but he had got out of it by pleading sickness. That hadn’t entirely been a lie, for the thought of spending an evening amongst all the Elders at a formal gathering had been anxiety inducing. It was still somewhat anxiety inducing, but the elfling comforted himself with the thought that since then he had become much more at ease around them. Besides, Nestorion would be there, and even Galad because he was Nestorion’s apprentice and he hadn’t visited his family for Yule. Alphros had gone home for a couple of weeks to celebrate Yule there, but Feredir would be present, and Nithaniel, and of course Faelind and Thureneth wouldn’t let Lutha struggle if things became difficult for him. Lutha felt his nerves steady a little as he went outside to the hired carriage. He knew that Faelind didn’t care for making people work at Yule, so the carriage driver had been paid handsomely for taking them to Amon Lanc and bringing them back later.

“Carriages make me think of kings and queens,” Lutha remarked as they set off.

Faelind had sat next to his foster son facing forward, and he exchanged a glance across the carriage with Thureneth. “What do you think about them?”

“About carriages?” Lutha replied. “I don’t have any strong feelings.”

“Kings and queens, little boy,” Faelind said with a minute eye-roll.

“Oh. Hmm. I think in stories the king is very handsome and stern, and the queen is beautiful, and they have a brave son who slays dragons and a daughter who is the fairest in all the land.” Lutha paused to consider it, his head tilted in thought. “But really I think they’re probably just arrogant and pretentious like most rich people – not you two, obviously – and the queen has an affair with the captain of her guard because the king is always drunk and he has a hundred mistresses.” Lutha shrugged as Faelind and Thureneth stared at him. “What do I know? Maybe elf kings and queens are different. Anyway, Greenwood manages fine without them so that proves that kings and queens are just a bit pointless really, doesn’t it?”

“Luthavar,” Faelind said in incredulous protest, sounding unusually like he didn’t at all know what to say.

“Did I not use those words correctly?” Lutha asked. “Arrogant and pretentious?”

“You used them perfectly. Elder Angoliel will be delighted. But I do not think that _all_ kings and queens can be as you described,” Faelind said. “Certainly not of our people.”

“They most definitely are not,” Thureneth agreed. “You may yet change your mind, Luthavar.”

“You know more about it than I do so I’ll believe you,” Lutha conceded. “I’ve never met a king or queen before.”

Thureneth tapped her fingers against her arm and gazed out of the window into the snowy twilight. “I have known rulers of our people and not. The King I knew best was arrogant, proud, and single-minded. That is fair. But he was always faithful to his queen and she to him. He cared deeply for his family – and indeed his people – though he feared losing them, and that made him severe and hard. Still, at his core he was good.”

“Where did he live?” Lutha asked.

It took a moment for Thureneth to reply. “Doriath.”

“Oh, I learned about there in lessons with Elder Angoliel,” Lutha recalled eagerly.

“And how are you enjoying your break from lessons?” Faelind inquired.

Lutha couldn’t help feeling like his foster father had deliberately asked the question to divert his attention. Maybe Faelind didn’t want to hear about fire and death at Yule. Supposing that was acceptable, Lutha followed the diversion while the carriage continued wending its way along the forest path towards the great hill of Amon Lanc where the not-palace (a term that had, albeit reluctantly, come to be accepted by Faelind) stood with its gleaming towers and grand halls.

“You would be a good king,” Lutha commented, glancing sideways at Faelind as they began ascending the hill.

A soft chuckle escaped Faelind at that. “Thank you, my little boy. But I have no desire to ever be king.”

“Aran Faelind,” Lutha said under his breath. “And Prince Luthavar. The thing is, I wouldn’t be a good prince.”

“What makes you say that?” Faelind asked thoughtfully.

“Firstly, princes have to be good and noble and honourable, and probably _so_ well behaved.” Lutha wrinkled his nose in distaste and shook his head for good measure. “And secondly, sometimes I don’t even want to get out of bed for lessons so what if I had to get up and go slay a dragon? I would sleep late and the dragon would burn the entire kingdom to ash and it would be all my fault. I couldn’t have that on my conscience.”

“It is not the law that princes must slay dragons, and indeed not all those who do slay dragons are princes,” Thureneth said with a fond laugh. “Besides, most of the dragons are gone now. The cold-drakes of the north do not care to travel this far south and the dragons in the east cannot fly. You would have to go looking for them. And why would you if they posed no threat to your land?”

“What’s the point of a dragon that can’t fly?” Lutha asked doubtfully.

“The Men of the East treat them as gods and they are said to control water and weather,” Thureneth replied. “They have four legs but no wings, or at the most just the smallest of wings not large enough to carry them. Mostly they swim. I think it is fair to say that we are quite safe from dragons here.”

Lutha gave his foster grandmother a thoughtful nod. “I might rethink being a prince.”

The truth was that Lutha already felt more like royalty than he could ever have imagined. His black boots and leggings were paired with a fine knee-length tunic of crimson decorated with little jet buttons and swirling gold embroidery. When he had finished getting dressed earlier that evening, Faelind had entered his room and presented him with one final gift – a gold circlet, simple but no less beautiful for it, to wear upon his brow. Lutha hadn’t known what to do with it, and so he had sat silently at his dressing table, staring at his reflection in the mirror while Faelind stood behind him and wove strands of his hair around the circlet to keep it in place. Lutha hadn’t thanked Faelind, not verbally. He had drawn breath two or three times, only to stop and shake his head helplessly. Faelind had just smiled, understanding.

The circlet that Lutha wore was similar in design to Faelind’s though his foster father’s was set with a cabochon onyx that glittered darkly. Indeed, for the most part Faelind was still in dark clothing, but his silk shirt was of pale gold and his black tunic was embellished with gold brocade. As for Thureneth, her cream coloured gown was slit down the centre to reveal the green and gold leaf patterned under gown. She had braided her thick auburn hair in a coronet around her head, and a matching diadem and necklace of gold and emeralds brought out the green of her eyes.

They arrived at the not-palace, and Faelind disembarked from the carriage to help Thureneth out. Lutha jumped down lightly and looked around. He was vaguely aware of Faelind thanking their driver and directing him to stable the horses and then go to the kitchens where there was food and music for those working that evening. Lutha only half-listened, for his attention was on his grand surroundings. Even though he had been to the not-palace a few times since the day of his arrest, for it was where Faelind heard cases as well as meeting with the Circle of Elders, it still took Lutha’s breath away. He thought that it always would.

The festivities were in a grand ballroom where hundreds of candles burned in crystal chandeliers and a quartet of elves with flute, harp, violin, and panpipes provided a musical backdrop. Tables around the hall’s perimeter held silver platters of little morsels of food both savoury and sweet, and even though Lutha couldn’t eat it he was unable to tear his gaze away from a fantastical ice sculpture carved to resemble a great tree of life surrounded by frozen woodland creatures. Attendants in silver and white robes circulated with trays of tiny glasses containing a liqueur that was somehow sweet and fiery all at the same time; Faelind quietly told Lutha that he was allowed _one_ and no more.

Many of the Elders had already arrived with their guests, every one of them dressed as beautifully as Lutha had ever seen them. Even Feredir had foregone his usual hunting leathers in favour of a green and burnished gold tunic over a silk shirt, and there wasn’t a sleeveless leather jerkin in sight when Lutha noticed Serellon and Turcared talking together at the side of the room. “I want to look at the food,” Lutha whispered to Faelind, feeling quite overwhelmed by it all.

“Go on, then. I shall be around if you need me. And Luthavar,” Faelind added, as the elfling turned away. “Don’t just look at the food. Eat as well.”

Lutha nodded obediently and crossed to one of the tables to begin his investigations of the food on offer. Using sight, smell, and taste, he identified small squares of toasted bread topped with smoked river salmon and cream cheese whipped to a point, paper-thin pastry wrapped around cranberries and crumbly cheese, slivers of melon surrounded by cured ham, and tiny versions of the pies and quiches that he had seen sold in the bakeries and inns of the towns. Lutha thought doubtfully that it would take many helpings of the little pieces of food to fill up a hungry elf, and he found himself glad for the substantial lunch that he had been given at home. That wasn’t to say, of course, that he didn’t intend to try something of everything.

“There you are,” said a familiar voice off to the side, thoroughly interrupting Lutha’s thoughts.

“Here I am,” Lutha agreed, glancing up. “Have you seen all this little food?”

“Yes, I have seen it. I was waiting for you to arrive,” Galad replied impatiently. “I hardly know anyone here except Master Nestorion. Look at all these Elders, all these great lords and ladies. I had to talk to them, Lutha. I had to try not to make a complete idiot of myself and act as though being here amongst them is something that I am _entirely_ comfortable with when we all know that I’m not because how could I ever be? And Elder Rethedir spoke to me. He said words to me. Words, Luthavar. And I had to say words back to him.”

“That’s usually how social interactions go,” Lutha said. “What words did Elder Rethedir say to you?”

“Oh, he was asking generic questions about where I’m from and how my apprenticeship is going and if I’m learning a lot from Master Nestorion.” Galad sank his teeth into his lower lip, looking more worried than Lutha had ever seen him before. “What if I got my words muddled and sounded completely stupid? What if I said the wrong thing?”

“What does generic mean?” Lutha asked suddenly to give Galad something else to focus on, even though he thought that he probably knew what the word meant given the context in which it had been used. The distraction worked, and Lutha nodded patiently as Galad, who had brightened considerably, spent the next three minutes extensively detailing the meaning of the word _generic_ and providing a handful of examples of it. “Well,” Lutha said, when his friend was done, “I can tell Elder Angoliel when lessons start up again that I know a new word. She’ll be so pleased.”

“Yes, do,” Galad encouraged the other elfling. “You could challenge yourself to learn a new word every day for a month. I did that once – well, I’ve done it many times…”

Lutha rolled his eyes. “Of course you have.”

“And I made sure to use all my new words in sentences,” Galad continued. “It drove my brothers mad. They could hardly understand what I was saying half the time.”

“Are you glad that you stayed here instead of going home for Yule?” Lutha asked curiously.

There was a moment of hesitation, and then the usually eloquent healer’s apprentice made a long and drawn out noise that sounded something like _ehhh._ “I had no choice,” Galad said finally. “I didn’t get invited home for Yule, and my grandfather is away leading a patrol in the east so I couldn’t go to him. Master Nestorion has been very good about letting me stay with him even though my training is on hold for the festive season.”

“Maybe your invite from home was delayed,” Lutha suggested. “The north is days away from here and there was all the snow…”

“It wasn’t delayed,” Galad said, more forcefully now. “Noendir got his invitation to spend Yule with our father and brothers.”

“And he went?” Lutha felt surprised and outraged on his friend’s behalf. “Even knowing that you were being left out?”

“He didn’t know. I didn’t tell him anything about not getting a letter from home. I just said that I needed to stay here for my apprenticeship.” Galad shrugged and picked up one of the pieces of little food – the pastry parcel of cranberry and cheese – and popped it into his mouth. “Maybe Noendir will find out while he’s at home that I’ve been temporarily disowned and when he gets back here he’ll be upset with me for lying,” Galad added after swallowing the delicate morsel. “Even though it wasn’t exactly a lie but just an omission of the truth.”

Lutha wasn’t so sure about that. “Elder Faelind told me once that hiding the truth _is_ lying. And then he spanked me for it. So that’s probably going to happen to you as well.”

“Thank you for the advice,” Galad said warily. Then, before his friend could reflect any further on it, he hastily asked, “How was your day with Elder Faelind?”

“Oh,” Lutha breathed, suitably distracted. “It was one of the best days of my whole life, Galad. Maybe even the very best. Better than anything.”

“You should tell Elder Faelind,” Galad suggested with a small smile. “I think he would like to hear that.”

“I will tell him,” Lutha promised.

There was no time to dwell any more on that, for they were interrupted by the arrival of Elder Turcared’s copper haired daughter. Bareithel put her hands on her hips and regarded the elflings with a flirtatious smile, which made Galad go white even though Lutha knew that Bareithel was only teasing; she was, after all, at least a whole four centuries older than the two of them. “Which of you pretty boys will dance with me first?” she asked, with a playful flutter of long lashes.

Galad gestured vaguely over his shoulder. “I have to go and-”

“He’d love to,” Lutha interjected, and he gave his friend a light shove towards Bareithel.

And so the evening passed with dancing, music, food, laughter, and friendship. Lutha threw himself into every moment because he didn’t want to let a single one of them go to waste, but finally it became too much for him and he slipped away. Alone, he walked slowly through the lamp lit halls of the not-palace until he reached the curved split staircase leading down to the front entrance hall where a leaping stag of shining marble looked over everything. Lutha sat on one of the steps with his knees hugged against his chest and his arms resting on them, serving as a pillow for his tired head. He had enjoyed the ball more than he had ever expected to, and it had been the perfect end to an already wonderful day, but this silence, the stillness, had been sorely needed. Lutha didn’t know how long he sat like that, staring out at the moonlight streaming through high windows to gleam upon the stag’s antlers, but finally he felt a presence behind him.

“Sorry I left,” Lutha offered softly.

There came the delicate whisper of long hair brushing against silk as Elder Faelind shook his head. “I wondered if the night might overwhelm you. There is no shame in needing time to oneself.”

“Then you’re not upset?” Lutha asked.

In answer, Faelind sat next to his foster son on the stairs and gazed down into the hall. “I grew up coming to these grand events. Even so, they were often too much for me and I regularly sought escape as you have tonight.”

“There’s something peaceful about him,” Lutha said, his eyes lingering on the stag below. “Did you sit here and watch him too?”

“This place was not built until centuries after I came of age,” Faelind replied, glancing around. “For many years all that stood atop this hill was a circle of stone chairs where the Elders met when the weather was fair.”

A flicker of mischief passed across Lutha’s face. “A real circle or a semi-circle?”

“A real circle,” Faelind replied with a reluctant smile. “No, in those days feasts and festivities were held outside in a glade not far from Caldron Pool. But my father was Chief of the Elders then, and his presence always brought a certain sense of…rigidity to events. As his only son, I was expected to play the role of dutiful heir. I have told you what the Faelind of three thousand years ago thought of such things.”

“You must have hated it,” Lutha ventured.

“I did. Which is why one Yule I sneaked a bottle of strawberry mead meant for the older elves and drank it all myself simply to liven things up. My father whipped me quite soundly for that, though I had neither disgraced myself nor become sick,” Faelind said, in the sort of impassive tone that suggested he had entirely detached himself from that event. He glanced sideways then to meet Lutha’s eyes, and added mildly, “Don’t you get any ideas about replicating my mistake, little boy.”

Lutha shook his head quietly and propped his chin in his hands with a sigh. “I won’t. I’m not. I just…” He sighed again, unsure how to translate his thoughts into words. “Can I tell you what I have been thinking about, Elder Faelind?”

“By all means,” Faelind allowed.

“For sixty-eight years I called the Clan my family because I had never known any different even though they used me and hurt me,” Lutha said slowly. “Sometimes when things were at their most bad, I would think about my birth family – my mother and father, maybe brothers and sisters, grandparents, aunts and uncles and cousins. I had a picture of them in my head and I would imagine somehow finding them one day when the Clan was all gone. In my head they were perfect, and they would _never_ hurt me because they were my blood.” He paused then, and Faelind didn’t fill the gap, simply encouraging Lutha with his silence. “I don’t think it makes any difference,” Lutha continued finally. “Galad doesn’t tell me a whole lot about his family, but what he does say makes me think that his father and his eldest brothers are cruel. You told me once that your father wasn’t cruel, just strict, but he sounds cruel to me and the way that your eyes go empty when you talk about him tells me that he was. I spent years holding my unknown birth family up as some sort of…of…”

“Ideal,” Faelind quietly supplied, when Lutha gestured impatiently to try and find the word. “You held them up as infallible.”

“Yes, probably,” Lutha said. “That sounds like it fits. What does it mean?”

“As you said,” Faelind replied. “Perfect.”

Lutha nodded slowly. “Yes. Perfect. Well, maybe they were never that. And if they abandoned me on a rubbish heap as the Clan always told me they did, then they _definitely_ weren’t perfect. Talking to Galad, listening to you…it just tells me that it doesn’t matter if you share blood with someone. Even they can still hurt you. Like my birth family hurt me by leaving me for dead. Like they might have hurt me as the Clan did. Or worse.”

“That is so,” Faelind agreed gravely. “I have heard of terrible things done to people by those whose blood they share.”

“I spent so long, my entire _life,_ thinking that not sharing blood with the Clan made it easy for them to do the things that they did to me,” Lutha whispered. “Then I came here. I don’t share blood with anyone in this forest – not you or Elder Thureneth, not Feredir or Nithaniel or Nestorion or…or _anyone_ but I’m safer here and I feel more loved and wanted than I ever have before.”

“You are, Luthavar,” Faelind said softly. “Wanted. Loved.”

“And wanted only because of who I am, not because of what I look like or because I can be of use to someone, and still wanted even when I get things wrong or I don’t behave well,” Lutha added, still marvelling at it all; he didn’t think that he would ever quite get over it. He bit his lip in thought, his gaze going distant. “I think maybe that’s what family is in the end. Accepting a person, loving them, and never giving up on them even if things go wrong. And if that _is_ what makes a family, then…well, then I’ve found one. Haven't I?”

Faelind nodded slowly, neither the lamplight nor the moonlight making his expression readable. “Luthavar. Would you like it if I…”

“If you what?” Lutha asked after a few moments, for his foster father appeared to have frozen. “Elder Faelind?”

Faelind shook himself slightly and breathed out, giving the elfling a small smile. “Would you like me to take you home, Luthavar? It is late and you have had a long day.”

Somehow, Lutha felt like that wasn’t what Faelind had intended to ask him, but he couldn’t for the life of him think what else it could have been nor what could have proven too much for Faelind to voice. “Yes. But I want to say something now, before we go home, because I feel like I could fall asleep the moment my head hits the pillow.” Lutha took a deep breath and met Faelind’s eyes. “You gave me the best Yule I ever had. I didn’t know that Yule could be so special.”

“And I had forgotten that it could be,” Faelind admitted quietly. “Thank you for reminding me of it.”

Lutha smiled and tentatively inched nearer to his foster father, closing the small gap between them. When he was close enough, he rested his head on Faelind’s shoulder and let out a soft sigh of contentment as a now familiar arm wrapped around his shoulders. “I’m so happy,” he whispered. If the words were spoken in the vulnerable moments right before sleep took hold, there was no less truth to them.

“As am I, my little boy,” Faelind whispered back, and only when he was certain that the child who had crept into his heart had fallen asleep did he press a kiss to Lutha’s head.


	12. A New Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The forest is full of new beginnings as the seasons change.

“How are things with Feredir?”

Sunlight glinted off red hair as Alphros bobbed up and down in the deep end of Caldron Pool. Winter had reluctantly given way to spring, and the pools and lakes of Greenwood were finally pleasant enough for swimming. “Good,” Alphros replied. “His work is so fascinating.”

“Hunting cute animals is fascinating?” Lutha asked, because he knew that it would get a rise out of his friend.

Alphros never disappointed. He didn’t now. “But that’s only the _smallest_ part of Master Feredir’s work,” he protested, splashing water into Lutha’s face. “Just yesterday we tracked a stag who keeps trying to mate with his daughters, but Master Feredir doesn’t want him hunted because he’s still in his prime. So we’re going to capture him and move him further north into a new territory where the deer population is struggling because of this one lone wolf that overhunted them. But the wolf died so now is the perfect time to increase the deer numbers in that area. _And,_ while we were tracking yesterday, we were keeping a record of an invasive plant species to report back to Elder Galawen so she can get it under control with her people. So you see, it’s not all hunting things. I’ve been learning all sorts.”

“You made your point,” Lutha protested, putting his arm up to protect his face from another splash.

“I don’t think so,” Alphros said, and he launched himself at Lutha and dunked him under the water.

The younger of the two elflings squirmed out of his friend’s grip and swam back to the surface of the pool, flipping locks of soaked dark hair out of his face. “Teacher’s pet.”

“I don’t care. Master Feredir is pleased with me,” Alphros retorted proudly. “What are you going to do, anyway? Have you thought about it?”

“Not really. I suppose I’ll just keep on with lessons for a while.” Floating on his back, Lutha gazed at the fluffy clouds drifting through spring’s tentatively blue sky. “I don’t mind. Most lessons are interesting.”

“You could make clothes,” Alphros suggested. “You love fashion. You would just have to learn how to sew and things.”

Lutha made a non-committal sound. “I could tell other people what to wear so they don’t look stupid. What’s that job called?”

“It doesn’t sound like a real job,” Alphros replied doubtfully. “Well, there’s plenty of time. You don’t need to rush into anything.”

The thought of what came after lessons was more intimidating than Lutha cared to admit. The end of lessons meant change, and change wasn’t always a good thing especially when Lutha was perfectly happy with things as they were. His mind often shied away from thoughts of the future, and it did so now, veering towards a sudden boyish idea that made him brighten. “Duck down,” he instructed Alphros, who did just that without question. Lutha promptly climbed atop his friend’s shoulders. “Now stand up but put your hands on my feet to keep me steady.”

“You had better not fall or Elder Faelind will kill me,” Alphros warned, though he dutifully put his hands on Lutha’s feet as he straightened.

Lutha wobbled only slightly and put his arms out for balance. “Hey, Galad!” he called. “Look at us!”

Over on the bank, sitting beneath a tree with his back against the trunk, Galad glanced up from his book. “I don’t know what I’m looking at.”

“An elf-tower,” Lutha replied happily. “Come play with us. We can see how high we can make it.”

“I have never wished to be part of an elf-tower before and I have no such inclination now, thank you all the same,” Galad said. “You two carry on. Just don’t break yourselves, because today is my day off and I don’t want to have to fix you, or worse, take you to Master Nestorion and have him fix you because your elf-tower collapsed.”

Lutha rolled his eyes and slid down from his precarious perch. He swam to the edge of the pool and rested his arms on the bank. “Galad, you’re still studying even though you said it’s your day off. The three of us are meant to be spending time together.”

“We’re breathing the same air,” Galad replied, looking puzzled as he gestured around the glade. “What more do you want?”

“I’ll splash you,” Lutha offered.

“Don’t you dare, Luthavar!” Galad said fiercely. “ _Not_ while I’m holding my book.”

“Put it down and then I can splash you,” Lutha suggested. He sighed as his friend just fixed a stony stare on him. “Please play with us, Galad.”

“You might enjoy yourself,” Alphros added. “I promise we won’t splash you. Will we, Lutha?”

“We won’t splash,” Lutha conceded. “I promise.”

“And you won’t push me under the water?” Galad asked suspiciously.

The other boys gave twin nods and said in unison, “Promise.”

Galad sighed but he dutifully put his book down next to his cloak and boots. He stood up and stripped to his leggings as his friends had, before sliding down into the water to join them. “Don’t splash,” he warned them, raising his arm slightly to protect his face.

“We promised,” Alphros protested, sounding hurt.

“You’re not very trusting,” Lutha observed.

Galad dropped his arm and stared. “Says you.”

Lutha just shrugged in return. “I try. So why the problem with water? You can swim.”

“My eldest brother used to tell me stories about a giant squid that lived in this pool near our house,” Galad said after a moment. “He told me it would wrap its tentacles around elflings who dared swim in the pool, and drag them down to the bottom to drown and eat them. One day he threw me in the pool. I didn’t know that my second eldest brother was already in the water. He grabbed my ankle and pulled me down deeper. I swallowed a load of water. It was horrible.”

“Your brothers are horrible,” Alphros said under his breath.

Lutha nodded seriously. He hadn’t even met Galad’s eldest brothers but he already despised them. “Did they at least get in trouble with your father?”

“I did because I panicked and kicked Breigon in the face,” Galad replied with a dismissive shrug. “It’s fine.”

“That’s what I think about the things that happened to me,” Lutha said, giving the other boy a long look. “Then I remember it’s not.”

“No, it’s not,” Galad agreed quietly. “Master Nestorion has helped me to see that my upbringing was…well, not fine. We have an hour set aside every week to talk about things. I actually find it very helpful. Lutha, maybe you could-”

“I don’t want to,” Lutha said in a flat sort of voice.

Galad opened his mouth to argue but then he hesitated and just nodded slowly. “In your own time then.”

“That might be never,” Lutha informed his friend.

“If that’s what you want,” Galad replied dubiously.

“It is. Have you changed your mind about helping us with our elf-tower?” Lutha asked.

Galad let out a long-suffering sigh and gave a roll of his dark blue eyes. “Fine.”

Later that afternoon, the boys lay amongst the springy grass to dry off under the warmth of the sun gently beating down on them. Alphros had fallen asleep. Every so often, Lutha felt himself drifting off as well, but the soft whisper of Galad turning the pages of his book kept him in that pleasant, sleepy in-between state. Lying on his stomach, Lutha buried his face in his crossed arms with a contented sigh, and his damp hair fell down over his shoulder. At his side, he felt Galad stir.

“What?” he asked, his voice heavy with drowsiness.

“Master Nestorion was worried that your scars didn’t seem to be healing,” Galad replied softly. “But they look like they are fading a little.”

Lutha nodded languidly and pulled his hair out of the way to fully bare his back and the old whip-scars. He knew that Galad was interested in such things. “I started using the healing salve again.”

“You told us that you were using it every night!” Galad said, appalled.

Sunshine and sleepiness had made Lutha careless. “I had to lie. Feredir used to help me with the salve every night. Then I went to stay with Elder Faelind and I could hardly ask him.”

“So how are you managing now?” Galad demanded. “You’re still with Elder Faelind.”

“Well,” Lutha said slowly, resting his chin on the back of his hands, “I asked him when we became friends. I had to wait until we were friends before asking him something like that. I don’t think either of us would have felt comfortable before.”

“I suppose not,” Galad conceded with a sigh. He traced one of the scars with the tip of his finger. “Master Nestorion will be pleased. Tell us when you need more salve, won’t you?”

Lutha nodded a dutiful promise as a rabbit ventured into the glade. It nibbled at the grass, bead-black eyes darting here and there, and Lutha watched it for a moment before turning his head to look at Galad. “This thing that you do with Nestorion every week. Is it just talking? Because I talk a lot with Elder Faelind already. If I feel angry or sad, if I have a bad memory or my head feels wrong, I can tell him.”

“I am glad that you have Elder Faelind. I expect he is good at listening to you and being there for you in whatever way you need,” Galad said thoughtfully. “But he isn’t a healer. He doesn’t understand the mind in the way that Master Nestorion does. I’m not saying that he hasn’t played a big part in how far you’ve come, because of course he has, and he’ll keep doing that. But some traumas go so deep that people need their minds to be healed in the same way you would set a broken arm or stitch a cut.”

“How do you heal a broken mind?” Lutha asked.

“I’m just an apprentice,” Galad said with a rueful smile. “I was always so pleased by how much I knew. How much I _thought_ I knew. Studying with Master Nestorion has taught me how much I still have to learn. He hasn’t even started teaching me about mind healing – at least not as his student, though as his patient I have some understanding. But it is such a complex art, Lutha, I wouldn’t want to tell you anything for fear of getting it wrong.”

“What about your mind healing?” Lutha ventured. “Is it wrong to ask?”

A moment of hesitation, and then Galad slowly shook his head. “I suppose talking about it is good. Master Nestorion says that people should talk about things, even the things that make them uncomfortable.” The apprentice healer lay back down on his front and crossed his arms, resting his cheek on them in perfect symmetry to Lutha. He took a deep breath, and said softly, “My brother Noendir is much younger than our older brothers. They were halfway through their sixth centuries when he was born. Our parents wanted another child to keep him company and be his friend as Celegnir and Breigon were friends. Hence me. But it took them so long to have me that Noendir was already seventy by the time I appeared. We have always been close even so, but I wasn’t the age-mate that my parents had wanted me to be for him. I often wondered what’s the point of me when I’m not the one thing I was meant to be. Does…does that make sense?”

“It makes sense,” Lutha said reluctantly. “But that doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“Easy for someone else to say.” Galad lowered his eyes and stared at the patch of grass lying between him and Lutha. “I was five when my mother died in a winter storm. Something broke in my father. The stern but loving and fair ellon who had raised my brothers became angry and bitter. I suffered for it. Especially because Celegnir and Breigon were replicas of my father, and Noendir was just like one of our uncles, but I was my mother – in looks, temperament, everything. Ada could hardly bear to look at me. He would tell _me_ not to look at _him._ But when our eyes did meet, I shook with fear because of what I saw in him. He never did things to me like your humans did to you. But what he did was enough, and it made me so afraid.”

“You should never have felt like that,” Lutha whispered. “Your father should have been better. I’m sorry that he wasn’t.”

Brown braids shifted with the movement of Galad’s shoulders as he shrugged. “This isn’t something that he ever said to me, but one day, whenever I did something wrong or my father or eldest brothers made me feel small, a sudden thought started appearing in my head: _you should have died that night with your mother_.”

“Galad,” Lutha protested.

“I know. I _know_ , all right?” Galad said, his cheeks flushed. “I never wanted to think that. The thought was just there. Sometimes once a day, sometimes many times. I could go weeks or months without ever thinking it and then it would just start up again.”

“But you didn’t actually want to…”

“No,” Galad replied quickly. “I never wanted to actually…you know, _die_. I just couldn’t stop this one thought and it became normal. My normal, anyway.”

“And now?”

Galad took a deep breath. “Now, Master Nestorion is helping me. He calls the thought intrusive because that’s exactly what it is. It intrudes in my mind where it isn’t welcome.”

“I think maybe I’ve had those kind of thoughts before,” Lutha admitted slowly. He bit his lip in thought. “I’ve been in town and all of a sudden I’ll think _I hope survivors from the Clan turn up and try to take me back._ Then I feel horrified and angry because I don’t want that. I don’t want that at all and I would never. But the thought is just there and then it goes again.”

“Yes! Exactly!’ Galad sat up and crossed his legs, tossing his braids over his shoulder before folding his hands in his lap as he adopted the pose of one about to impart knowledge. “Thoughts aren’t physical. They are just ideas. But you must _imagine_ your thought as something physical. Imagine it as a real and physical thing that you can defeat. Give it a name, too.”

“What kind of name?” Lutha asked doubtfully. He didn’t sit up, instead rolling onto his side and looking up at his friend with one arm pillowed under his head. “What’s your physical thing?”

Galad’s cheeks had returned to their normal pale shade but now embarrassment turned them rosy again. “I told you the squid story. My physical thing is a squid called Tentacles. It’s stupid.”

“Maybe a bit,” Lutha agreed.

“But it’s all right for it to be stupid because you have reduced the horrible thought to something ridiculous,” Galad added hastily.

“So how do you defeat…Tentacles?” Lutha asked.

“Every time I get one of these bad thoughts I imagine it as the squid creeping up on me. And then I imagine myself kicking him so hard that he flies up into the air and sails all the way across the forest to Erebor where he can be a problem for the Dwarves,” Galad replied.

The very thought of such a thing made Lutha laugh. “But does it work?”

“The bad thought happens less and less, so I suppose it does.” Galad paused, a frown flitting across his face. “I’ll tell Master Nestorion that I’ve told you this. He might be cross that I told you without you having gone through it properly with him. I don’t know. But Lutha, while I do think that talking to Master Nestorion would be good for you, I promise that I won’t try and make you do anything.”

“And I promise to think about it,” Lutha replied.

“Yes, do think about it,” Alphros said softly, making both his friends jump. He sat up and reached back to tighten the leather band holding his red hair out of his face. “Sorry. I woke a little while ago. I didn’t want to disturb your talk. I do think that you should seriously consider it, Lutha. I certainly can’t see that you have anything to lose, especially when it’s clearly helped Galad.”

“But don’t do it for us,” Galad added. “Only do it because you want to when the time is right otherwise it won’t work.”

Lutha nodded dutifully, but then his eyes widened. “Time. What time is it?”

“About four o’clock,” Alphros guessed after a moment.

“I have to go.” Lutha jumped to his feet and snatched the rest of his clothes up from the floor, balancing on one foot and then the other as he jammed them into his boots. He pulled his shirt over his head then, and it briefly muffled his voice. “Elder Nithaniel is coming for dinner tonight and Elder Faelind said don’t be late.”

“Blame us if you are,” Alphros offered.

“Um, no,” Galad began.

Lutha rolled his eyes. As if Faelind would ever accept that excuse – or any excuse. He finished dressing, leaving the last few clasps of his tunic undone, and gave his best friends a hasty wave before running off into the trees. That morning’s walk to the pool had been pleasant and taken at Lutha’s own leisure, but the return journey was anything but. It wasn’t punishment that he feared, for even Elder Faelind wasn’t so strict that he wouldn’t be prepared to overlook a little lateness, but more than anything Lutha didn’t want to let his foster father down. And so, he ran all the way home.

“I’m back!” he gasped, when he burst through the front door.

There was no reply for a moment, but then Faelind appeared in the door to the living room. “I see that you are. Thank you for keeping me informed, Luthavar.”

“But am I late?” Lutha asked breathlessly. “I’m not late, am I?”

Faelind let out a soft laugh and shook his head, taking pity on his foster son. “No. I trust that you enjoyed your time with your friends.”

“It was really good,” Lutha replied. “We built an elf-tower.”

“That sounds fascinating.” Moving further into the hallway, Faelind lifted a lock of Lutha’s dark hair with the tip of an elegant finger. It was still slightly damp from the pool. “Freshen up for dinner, little boy, and then you may tell me all about your day.”

Lutha nodded obediently and ran upstairs, eager to get everything done fast so that he could have time with Faelind before Nithaniel arrived. He paused in the bathing chamber to lift the pump that drew water from the nearby hot springs, and while the bath filled up he undressed and selected his clothing for that evening: a cobalt blue tunic which was one of his favourites because of the lovely gold trim around the hem and the swirling silver embroidery that ran down the centre. It went particularly well with a shirt of silver-white, and slate grey leggings a few shades lighter than his eyes. Lutha neatly set the clothes out on his bed before going to brush out the small tangles that had accumulated in his hair whilst he had played in the pool, and then it was time to quickly bathe.

Before long, Lutha was downstairs again. He joined Faelind in the living room. Once upon a time they had only ever shared the same space when it was necessary. As they had started spending more time together and feeling more comfortable in one another’s company, they had sat on opposite sides of the room. That had gradually progressed to sharing the same settee with a large gap between them. Now, with Faelind occupying his favourite chair with a book open in his hands, Lutha didn’t think twice about going over and perching on the arm of the chair. “I’m freshened up.”

“I see that.” Faelind closed his book and set it aside. “So elf-towers, then?”

Lutha brightened and proceeded to regale his foster father with the ins and outs of his day, gesturing enthusiastically as he described the elf-tower and how it had finally collapsed with a spectacular splash much to his delight, Alphros’ amusement, and Galad’s consternation. When he got near the end of the day, Lutha breathed out slowly and leaned against Faelind’s side. “Galad said about mind healing.”

“Did he,” Faelind replied neutrally. “And what do you think about that?”

“I don’t know,” Lutha admitted. “Bad things happened to you. Did you ever have mind healing?”

Faelind shook his head briefly. “That is not to say that you should not. But you must not be forced into it. Not by me, or Nestorion, or Galadaelin for that matter though I expect he has your best interests at heart.”

“He wasn’t trying to force me,” Lutha defended his friend. “He just thinks it might help.”

“And so it might,” Faelind agreed. “Meet with Nestorion, then. Informally. You won’t be committing to anything. He can tell you everything that you need to make a decision.”

“But will you come with me?” Lutha asked anxiously.

“I will,” Faelind promised. “No need to worry about that, my little boy.”

Lutha smiled, feeling somewhat better, but he paused then and lifted his head as he heard hoof beats. Half a minute passed before the bell at the front door rang. “Nithaniel is here.”

“Get up and go greet her then,” Faelind said, lightly smacking Lutha’s hip to move him.

Lutha dutifully hopped up and went out to the entrance hall, but the housekeeper had got there first and was letting their dinner guest in. Lutha accepted a warm hug and a kiss from Nithaniel, drawing back just as Faelind came out from the living room. “Welcome, Nithaniel,” Faelind said, greeting his younger colleague with a kiss on the cheek.

“Is that a new gown?” Lutha asked suddenly.

“Well spotted,” Nithaniel laughed, glancing down at her gown of lilac chiffon and silk. “Do you like it?”

Faelind winced slightly and visibly braced himself for Lutha’s response, though he needn’t have worried. “Of course I like it,” Lutha replied. “Purple always suits you. Pale purple, anyway. Dark purple not so much but you know that because you never wear it. Oh, but you should try red.”

“Red,” Nithaniel repeated doubtfully, touching her silver-blonde hair. “With this?”

“It would look so good,” Lutha promised with a vehement nod. “Try it. Please.”

“It seems I shall have to borrow Luthavar for a trip to the couturier,” Nithaniel remarked dryly.

“By all means,” Faelind said, rolling his eyes. “Come. Dinner shall be served soon.”

And so it was. To start there was parsnip and apple soup, followed by roasted river salmon with heather honey dressing and seasonal vegetables, and finally ripe berries bursting with sweet juice and topped with clotted cream. Conversation around the dinner table remained pleasant and light. Lutha happily told Nithaniel all about the elf-tower that he had made with his friends, a story that Faelind listened to patiently having heard it once already. If Nithaniel didn’t react with the same sort of enthusiasm that Lutha expected to get when he inevitably told Feredir about the elf-tower, she still laughed and seemed pleased by it.

When dinner came to an end, the elves gathered in the living room. Faelind and Lutha took opposite ends of the same settee, while Nithaniel chose one of the comfortable armchairs. She took a sip of her wine and then set the glass aside with a gentle clink. “While I am here, there is something important that I must discuss with you,” she began, her eyes resting on Lutha.

“That sounds scary,” he replied.

“No, it is a good thing,” Nithaniel protested, laughing softly. “Lutha, you have come far since you first arrived in Greenwood. Your reading and writing, your behaviour, your manners, the friends that you have made, and the relationships that you have formed with the Elders and others as well…we are all very proud of you. I hope you know that.”

Lutha glanced at Faelind, who just smiled slightly and gave him a small nod. Quite sure that he had just been given enough praise to last him the rest of the year, Lutha squirmed, and managed to reply, “Thank you.”

“In your earliest days here,” Nithaniel added, “I told you that our ultimate hope was to have you adopted. Do you remember that?”

“I remember,” Lutha said slowly.

Nithaniel gave him a warm smile that couldn’t have been more at odds with the cold feeling that was starting to sweep through him. “You are ready.”

All Lutha could do was stare at her. “I…I am?” At the other end of the settee, Faelind had gone incredibly still.

“I believe so,” Nithaniel replied. “From these regular dinners that I have with you, and everything that I have seen and heard in between, I am confident that you have reached the point where you are ready to take this step into the new chapter of your life; or if you are not ready now, that you will be soon. Indeed, I have a family in mind who I think could be a perfect fit for you.”

“What family?” Lutha whispered, wondering how he could feel so numb when his heart was racing so furiously.

“A teacher and her husband who works as a healer. They live a day’s ride from Amon Lanc, so you wouldn’t be too far from your friends nor anyone else here that you might wish to visit,” Nithaniel said. “Having already raised their own children, a son and a daughter now grown, they wish to give a home and all their love to an elfling in need of both those things. I know them personally. They are good, kind, decent people. I believe you would be very happy with them, Luthavar.”

Faelind finally stirred, picking up his empty wine glass from the side table. “Excuse me,” he said abruptly, rising and sweeping from the room.

His sudden departure made Nithaniel hesitate, and she watched him leave before summoning a reassuring smile for Lutha. “Well. What do you say? Would you like to meet them?”

“I…I didn’t know that you were going to say this,” Lutha replied, the words feeling thick and heavy in his mouth.

“Of course. It must be a shock.” Nithaniel moved to the settee and gently rested her hand on the elfling’s slim shoulder. “We always wanted this for you. It was our intention from the start that you be adopted into a family when the time was right.”

“I thought the Elders were a family,” Lutha whispered.

“We are,” Nithaniel sighed. “But…”

“But what? There isn’t room for me? I’m small, I don’t take up much room.” Lutha’s eyes burned with tears even as he tried to make the joke. He shrugged his shoulders, dislodging Nithaniel’s hand so that it fell away, and pressed himself into the corner of the settee. He didn’t want a new brother and sister. Feredir was his brother. He had _thought_ that Nithaniel could be like his sister. He didn’t need a mother; he had got used to not having one. He didn’t want a father. _No._ He did. He wanted a father. But not that one. Not the decent and kind healer whose name he didn’t even know.

“Lutha,” Nithaniel whispered, dismayed. “I thought you knew that this would happen, that it was what you wanted…”

“Don’t follow me,” Lutha spat, falling back onto one of his oldest instincts and baring his teeth at Nithaniel as he jumped to his feet. He ran from the living room and out into the hall where he stopped, breathless with fear, his shoulders rising and falling and his hands to his head. Instinct kicked in again and made him look to the front door, and for a moment he imagined himself pulling it open and running into the night, running, running until he was far away. But a stronger instinct took over and his feet took him further into the house, to the kitchen, where Faelind was standing with his back to the door. His hands were gripping the edge of the counter, dark hair spilling down his back from his bowed head. When he sensed that he was no longer alone, he briefly passed one hand over his face before taking a deep breath and turning around.

“Little boy,” he quietly acknowledged his foster son.

“She said…Nithaniel…she said…” Lutha swallowed, feeling like he had lost the ability to form simple words. “There’s a family.”

“So it seems,” Faelind replied. He held his hands behind his back and regarded Lutha in silence. They could just as well have been back at the beginning, strangers once again with an immeasurable distance between them. “The teacher and the healer. They sound… _nice_.”

“I’m going to be adopted,” Lutha added hollowly. “By them.”

“Then I suppose congratulations are in order,” Faelind replied, stiff and formal.

It hurt too much for Lutha to pretend. “I don’t want them.”

“They will take good care of you.”

“But I don’t want them.”

A crack appeared in the façade that Faelind had been trying to hold together. “Luthavar…”

“I don’t want them!” Lutha shouted, feeling hot tears spill down his cheeks. “I want you to make it stop! Please. You’re Elder Faelind. You can do anything. Make it stop, please. I’ll be good. I promise. I’ll be so good and I’ll do so well in lessons, just _please_ don’t send me away!”

Three quick strides were all it took for Faelind to cross the kitchen as the wall that he had done his best to put up came crashing back down. He grabbed Lutha and pulled him against his chest, arms tight around the elfling’s slender frame. “Never, Luthavar.” Bowing his head, Faelind pressed his face into Lutha’s dark hair and shakily breathed in his foster son’s scent. “This is your home,” he whispered. “Here. With me.”

“Swear it,” Lutha cried.

Faelind stepped back, keeping one hand on Lutha’s shoulder and lifting his chin with the other so green eyes met tear-washed grey. “I have been a fool. I let centuries of bitterness and heartache stop me from admitting my feelings to myself and certainly to you. Well, I say now, Luthavar, that you are mine. Do you hear me?” Faelind said fiercely. “You are mine, and you will stay with me because…because I love you as a father loves his son. Eru help me, I love you and I want you to be mine.”

“I love you,” Lutha echoed in a whisper, clutching the front of Faelind’s tunic. He bowed his head, choking back tears. “I do. I love you. I want to stay, Elder Faelind. I want to be yours.”

“Then you shall be. But don’t call me ‘Elder Faelind’ again,” Faelind said softly.

“I…I don’t know what else to…”

“Yes, you do.”

“Ada,” Lutha breathed.

“That’s right,” Faelind whispered back, joy such as Lutha had never seen before shining in his eyes. “My little boy. My son.”

Lutha melted into Faelind’s embrace with a tearful laugh. “Your son,” he repeated wondrously. How could this be? How could it be real life and not a dream so vivid that it just made a mockery of real life? But it had to be real, Lutha thought, feeling strong arms around him and smelling the rich orchid layered with sweet citrus that always lingered around Faelind. It had to be real because if he tried hard enough he could still taste the tang of raspberry cordial, and see the shock in Nithaniel’s eyes when he had run from the room. “Nithaniel,” Lutha gasped, remembering. “I ran out on her. I might have shouted. I don’t know, it’s a blur.”

“I understand. She will too.” Faelind gently wiped away the tears that had dried on Lutha’s cheeks, and he gave him a reassuring smile and another loving hug before leading him back to the living room. Nithaniel was standing at the window, staring out into the darkness with her arms wrapped around herself. When she noticed the reflection of the ellyn in the window, she turned slowly to face them. “Nithaniel,” Faelind began. “All is well.”

“No. I did not realise,” Nithaniel said guiltily. “I should have seen, but…Lutha, I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

“This is nobody’s fault but mine.” A deep breath lifted Faelind’s shoulders as he looked down at the elfling by his side. “Nithaniel sent you to live with me because she knew, even when I did not, that you and I would be good for one another. In her heart, she hoped that this moment would come to pass though she never dared voice her thoughts to either one of us – not until I made you my foster son, Luthavar. Then Nithaniel came to me and she asked me if I would ever consider adopting you. To my deep shame and regret, I said no. I knew it for a lie as soon as I said the word. I wanted to say yes. But I was afraid. Afraid of loving you and losing you. Now, tonight, faced with the risk of losing you, I know that I would rather take the chance of loving you. I pray that you will forgive me my fears.”

“I do,” Lutha whispered.

“And Nithaniel,” Faelind added.

She shook her head slightly, silver hair rippling. “You need not say anything else, Faelind. It is forgiven. I understand.”

“Then,” Faelind said, drawing Lutha closer against his side, “I wish to adopt Luthavar as my son.”

“And so you shall. I cannot think of a better pairing,” Nithaniel said warmly, happy tears shining in her eyes. She embraced Faelind, kissing his cheek, and hugged Lutha tightly. “Nor a happier ending.”

“I got a happy ending,” Lutha whispered.

“A happy ending. Or perhaps a happy beginning, Luthavar Faelindion,” Nithaniel replied.

_Luthavar Faelindion._ The weak infant who had been left on a rubbish heap far in the south – for, indeed, the Clan had told the truth of their finding Lutha despite his desperate desire to believe otherwise – and who had grown into a pretty little boy and a clever, long-lashed, beautiful youth, always thieving, cheating death, bleeding, imagining himself far away while he was used in the worst of ways, had finally found both happy ending and new beginning. He had found them in the home and heart of a grieving ellon who had believed himself incapable of loving again. _Luthavar Faelindion,_ Lutha thought, repeating the name in his head a hundred times. _Luthavar Faelindion._ That was who he was now. The thief, the victim, the outcast, they were all gone, replaced simply by a boy with a father who loved him. And if Luthavar Faelindion ever became more than that…well, that is a story for another time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has followed this story! I have a few other stories in mind and two in particular that I am working hard on which include Faelind and Lutha, and I hope to start posting the first of those very soon. Lutha can also be seen in my other story Hope Beyond Reason which is set during the Last Alliance of Elves and Men. Thank you again!


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